Dreaming in Blood
by Discordia81
Summary: Emotionally distant investment banker Edward Cullen struggles with his attraction to the mysterious vampire who changed him. Angry and denying that they're mates, Edward must reconcile the pull he feels to her. When her past threatens the fragile equilibrium they've established, Edward must decide if he'll forgive her, or abandon her to the monster from her past. Dark, non-canon
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**(CONTENT and LEGAL) All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Notes: **Life is sloooowly starting to settle down a bit for me. The home renovations are just about done until next spring, work is a little less crazy, and LTOYL is complete.

In addition to fanfiction, I have ventured into the world of OF publishing, so some of my focus is on that. If you're interested in slash, keep your eyes open for further details, because I will be publishing a slashy short story with Dreamspinner Press in February as part of an anthology they're putting together. Eeep!

I'll be aiming to post this story weekly, but realistically, I probably won't have time to reply to all the reviews. I miss being able to do that, but it's either that or sleep, and well, I get grouchy without it. I will read and treasure every single one though, and if you have a specific question, I will do my best to reply as promptly as I can.

**Warning: **This story is going to be rather dark and turn canon on its head so although E&B will end up together, I make no promises about anything else. It won't be SM's happy little veggie vamp Cullen clan.

* * *

**~Chapter One~**

Edward sat up in bed, his heart hammering in his chest and his hand clutching his throat. He felt a sticky wetness coating his fingers. He frowned when they brushed against a strange, raised circular mark there. Edward struggled out of bed, his head throbbing, and his entire body aching like he'd been on a three-day bender. He'd had a few of those in college. But he couldn't ever remember feeling this sick before. Maybe he was coming down with something. The bedroom was dark, but he could see something wet glistening on his fingertips in the moonlight as he staggered to the bathroom. As he stumbled through the doorway, everything in his head went white, and a rushing sound filled his ears like the roar of a waterfall. He clutched at the doorframe, his fingertips slipping, unable to find purchase there. He sank to the floor, gasping for air and dropping his head between his knees.

_What the hell is wrong with me? _he wondered. He struggled to remember what he'd done the night before, but he could barely even remember what day of the week it was. On shaky legs, he stood, fumbled for the light, and made it over to the sink. His hands gripped the cool, slippery marble and he kept his head low, trying to keep the dizziness at bay.

When his eyes finally focused on the scene in front of him, he gasped. The sticky wetness coating his hands was red. It was garish in the harsh light of the bathroom, vibrant against the bleached whiteness of his skin. He frowned in confusion. When had he ever been that pale? And why did it look like his hands were coated in blood? Realization came crashing over him all at once, and he lifted his head to stare in the mirror. He looked like something from a horror movie. If it was indeed blood, it was splashed all over his formerly crisp white shirt and across his jaw and cheek. It even coated his lips. He clutched the sink harder as the rushing in his head began again. What the fuck had happened?

He lifted his hands to his face and smelled the sharp, coppery tang of blood. He felt queasy and weak as he washed his hands, furiously scrubbing at the blood lodged everywhere. It was under his nails and in every little crease in his skin. He tried to calm his ragged breathing, but his heart raced in his chest, filling his ears with the sound. _Is that normal? Can I usually hear my own heartbeat? _Edward wondered.

Shakily, he grabbed for the soft white washcloth on the rack beside the sink. He frantically scrubbed at his mouth, desperate to wash the blood from it when a horrifying thought occurred to him. Had he done something? Hurt someone? It seemed impossible. He was a fucking investment banker. He didn't kill people or drink their blood. The thought nauseated him further, and he scrambled over to the toilet and dropped to his knees, heaving dryly. He was grateful when nothing came up. He didn't know what he would have done if something had come up. Something like blood. He retched again and dropped his head on his arm, trying desperately to remember what he'd done the night before. Had he worked late?Stupid question, he always worked late. _Later than usual, then? _he thought. Maybe, but he wasn't sure.

He vaguely remembered it being dark out when he left the office. Dark and rainy. It was March, though, and daylight still ended early. He gently pounded his head against his forearm before realizing it only made the headache and nausea worse. And it didn't help him remember a thing. _Fuck,_ he swore to himself. What had happened to him?

On shaky legs, he stood again and went back to the sink. He stripped out of his clothing, realizing for the first time that his pants were unzipped, and his shirt was unbuttoned. Both his shirt and pants were ripped. His cock ached, too, he realized; like it would after a really good fuck. _Jesus Christ. Blood and sex?_ He shuddered, feeling a thousand tiny, cold fingers creeping up his spine. Why couldn't he remember? He left the bloodied and destroyed clothes on the white marble floor and rinsed the blood-coated washcloth clean. He gently wiped away the blood still on his neck and jaw, and the washcloth dropped from his numb fingers when he saw the mark on his neck.

There was a silvery white raised circle on his skin. He tilted his head to the side to see it better and staggered back when he realized it looked like a bite mark. The questions swirled in his head, and he once again tried to put together the pieces from the night before. All of the evidence pointed to the theory that he'd fucked some chick, and then she'd bit him, but was that even possible? He shook his head in disbelief, but it only made the pounding worse.

He slowly made his way through the gleaming white bathroom that was now marred by streaks of blood and soiled clothes. He flipped on the light in the bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest at what he might find, but it was fairly innocuous compared to what his imagination had conjured up. A messy bed, blood smeared across a white pillow, and a black lace thong on the plush white carpet.

Edward grinned, feeling almost normal for a second. Panties on the floor weren't that uncommon for him; although, he'd never had them in his place. His grin slowly faded. _That's odd_, he thought. _Did I actually bring a girl back here?_ Edward never brought them home. He preferred to go to a hotel or fuck them at their place.

He lifted the underwear, noticing the expensive label and delicate lace. Well, he hadn't slept with a two-bit hooker; that was for sure. But where had he met her? And who the fuck was she?He temporarily ignored the other questions that lingered in the back of his mind. He'd worry about them later.

He managed to slip into a pair of silky black boxers and went into the living room, stopping to check the guest bedroom to be sure no one was there. But it was empty, as white and pristine as ever. The living room was the same, as was the rarely-used dining room and kitchen. His front door was locked with the deadbolt in place.

He shook his head in confusion and went into the kitchen. His refrigerator was empty except for a bottle of vodka, a shriveled lime, and a bottle of fresh-squeezed orange juice. He never cooked and rarely ate at home, but he couldn't live without his morning orange juice. He was as much of a slave to caffeine as anyone else was and drank coffee steadily throughout the day, but he always had to have his glass of juice when he woke up. He gulped juice down greedily, the fridge door still open, the juice trickling down his jaw and onto his neck. He was normally fastidious about drinking out of a glass, but right then, he didn't give a shit. He needed it. He drained the container and wiped at his mouth with a never-before used towel, throwing it on the granite counter.

Edward sagged back against the cabinet, his chest heaving with exertion. The cold juice settled in his stomach, feeling strange there. It had tasted good on the way down, though. He fumbled in the cupboard for something to eat; he finally found an old box of semi-stale crackers and crammed a few in his mouth. They were tasteless and bland, but after a little while, they, along with the juice, finally started to do their job. The pounding in his head receded, as did the queasy feeling in his stomach. Now, he just felt exhausted.

Leaving a mess in the kitchen, he slowly worked his way back to the bedroom, gripping the wall to try and steady himself. He managed to swipe his phone from the dresser before collapsing onto the clean side of the bed. He tossed the bloodied pillow onto the floor and pulled the covers over himself, so weak he could hardly grip the grey, silky fabric.

Edward fumbled with his phone, finally managing to unlock and check it. No missed calls or texts. Well, that wasn't wildly unusual; other than work, he didn't get a lot of calls. He'd never been very social, and since his parents had died just after he graduated college, he didn't have any family except for a few distant relatives he'd never actually met. He was attractive, successful, and had no emotional connections to anyone.

He blearily wondered if he'd missed a day, but no, it was four a.m. on a Thursday morning. The date was right and everything. He groaned at the thought of having to get up in just a few hours and turned off his phone, checked the alarm, and passed out. He only had one fleeting thought before he succumbed to sleep, and it was a strange one. It was less of a thought than an image: two deep crimson eyes peering at him out of the darkness.

He jerked awake in the morning, startled by the shrill cries of his alarm. He fumbled for it, smacking it hard to turn it off. He clicked on the bedside light like usual before the memories from the night before returned. His hand flew to his neck again, and although his hand came away clean this time, the bite mark just above his collarbone was still there. He'd been so sure he'd dreamed the whole thing. But there was still a bloodied pillow and black thong on the floor.

Edward's body ached everywhere, and his cock was still slightly tender. He gently reached down and grasped it through the thin silk of his boxers. Damn, it hurt. He hissed as his thumb swiped over the tip. It felt sore, almost bruised. He peered down at it, moving the fabric aside, but it looked normal, not black and blue like it felt. He was still bewildered by what had happened the evening before to cause his cock to be so painful and leave him covered in blood, but at least he remembered what had happened once he woke up in the early morning hours.

With a stifled groan, he got out of bed and hobbled to the bathroom, feeling like he'd been hit by a freight train. He turned on the shower and dropped his boxers to the ground, not caring about the mess he left in his wake. He was too damned tired to care. The hot water felt wonderful, and he stood in the stinging spray for a long time, letting the water beat down on his shoulders. His muscles slowly relaxed, and eventually, he felt human enough to get out of the shower.

Edward went through his morning routine like always and dressed in his usual uniform of a dark suit, white shirt, and simple colored tie—boring but appropriate for the office. He stared at himself in the full-length mirror for a long time. He looked nearly the same as always. Tall, fit, well dressed. His hair was still a unique shade of brown that looked red in the sunlight. His eyes were still green. His skin was paler than normal, though, and the circles under his eyes were frighteningly black. Edward craned his neck to the side, but thankfully, with the shirt and tie on, the scar couldn't be seen. Being hassled about that was all he needed today.

The police hadn't come pounding on his door, and bite mark and aching cock aside, he didn't seem to be any worse for wear. He still had no idea what had happened, but he decided to put the horror of the early morning hours from his mind and focus on his job instead.

Edward left for work; the only variation in his usual routine was taking a cab instead of the subway. He was too exhausted to fight the crowds of hurried commuters he usually battled with every morning. He didn't have the energy for the Manhattan morning rush.

Edward dozed in the cab on the way to work, still exhausted from the previous night. He paid the cabbie when he arrived and stopped at his usual coffee kiosk right near his building. He was ravenous, and he ordered a larger coffee than usual, a bagel with cream cheese, and a bottle of orange juice. It wasn't his usual fresh squeezed, but it was better than nothing. He paid for his food and trudged into the building to take the elevator to the twenty-fourth floor.

Once in his office, he devoured the food and gulped down the orange juice, sipping his hot coffee just a bit slower. The morning was a bit of a haze as he struggled to stay awake and focus on his job. He was usually sharp and focused—he had to be in his line of work—but today, he could barely manage to keep his eyes open. His body still hurt, and he couldn't stop himself from slipping his fingers under his shirt collar and fingering the raised scar absently. He was interrupted from one of his reveries by a raised voice.

"What the fuck is wrong with you today, Cullen?"

He lifted his bleary eyes to the person standing in front of his desk. It was his boss, Peter Kerrigan, and Edward shook his head and tried to look more alert. "I think I might be coming down with a bug or something," he said, rubbing his hands over his face.

Peter gave him a skeptical look. "You don't get sick, Cullen. You're a fucking machine—here every day and working twice as hard as the rest."

Edward chuckled and leaned back in his chair, trying to look like his usual, cocky self. "I suppose even machines need a bit of servicing."

Peter laughed loudly. "All right, that I'll believe. Who was the chick that fucked the shit out of you? Looks like she did a number on you. What did you do last night after you got out of here?"

Edward shrugged. "Don't remember. It's not like I bother to get a name. 'Oh, baby' works just fine for me."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Well, you probably shouldn't chance another encounter with her. I don't like seeing my best man so wiped out. Get some sleep tonight, and give your dick a rest."

Edward laughed it off and nodded, but the words Peter so casually tossed at Edward gave him pause. They lingered in his mind as he dragged himself through the rest of his day, stopping only to inhale a massive quantity of food for lunch and dinner. Would he see her again? And did he want to?

When his key turned in the lock to his apartment, he paused in the entryway, swearing he could smell a whiff of perfume. It certainly wasn't the cleaning lady. She only came on Tuesdays, and she left the apartment smelling like bleach. This was a dark, heavy scent, with a faint coppery tang, that made him think about the blood on his hands. He shuddered and tossed his bag and coat on the couch, foregoing putting them neatly away like he usually did. He went into his bedroom, half-expecting to see a mystery woman sprawled in his bed, but it was exactly as he'd left it that morning. He groaned and sat down heavily in a chair, burying his face in his hands. He couldn't understand what was happening to him. He felt like he'd been taken out of his normal life and dropped into some sort of murder mystery—or horror movie.

He spent the evening trying to watch TV, but he couldn't seem to focus on any show. He wondered if he had watched TV the night before. The frustrating thing was, he could half-remember vague pictures of what had happened, but they were slippery and elusive, gone from his mind before he could focus on them. He finally tossed the remote across the room with an irritated huff and stalked into the kitchen, splashing a healthy amount of vodka into a glass and swallowed it in a large gulp. It burned on the way down, and he chased it with another. And then another. He needed oblivion.

The vodka made him tired, and he stripped out of his clothes, discarding them on the floor, as well. God, he'd never been this much of a slob, why was he starting now, he wondered. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He collapsed into bed and quickly fell asleep.

He awoke in the middle of the night again, his fingers once again seeking out the scar. It was tender to the touch but dry. _No fresh blood then_, he mused. He thought he smelled the perfume again, but he dismissed that idea immediately. His heart hammered in his chest at an alarming rate, and he fell back against the pillows in frustration. His cock was hard and throbbing, and he could swear he felt a tingle on the shaft and on his lips. He licked his lips, and it numbed his tongue, giving it a minty burn.

He was suddenly slammed by the memory of high heels on the sidewalk, the scent of the dark perfume mixing with rain, and a low, husky voice. He shook his head in confusion, trying to piece together what those memories meant. It had to be his mystery woman, but who was she? And why did she leave him bleeding in his bed?

He repeated the cycle of sleeping and waking throughout the night, snippets of memory returning to him. Long pale limbs, naked and writhing. Cool skin and the whisper of silky hair on his stomach. Burning, aching need and the sweet relief of desperation finally quenched. Half asleep, he stroked his cock to her memory, but fell asleep before he could find completion.

The next time he awoke, his cock was limp and spent, but there was no ejaculation and he had no memory of cleaning up, or even coming, for that matter. He sighed and rolled over, suddenly assaulted by the memory of two narrow thighs straddling his face, his hair being pulled painfully as he devoured her cool wetness. He remembered his lips and tongue tingling after, like he'd dipped them in Novocain. He slept and woke to the scent of her sweet breath against his lips and the agonizing pleasure of her mouth against his neck. He could almost feel her teeth pierce his skin, the sucking, drawing sensation of his blood being greedily gulped down.

He sat upright, his heart in overdrive as the memories came rushing back. _Who the hell is this woman?_ he wondered.

In the morning when he awoke for the final time, he felt exhausted but the weakness of the previous day was gone.

As the days passed, he tried to brush aside the questions that lingered in his mind, and the uneasy, unsettled feelings that plagued him, but they continued to haunt him. He found himself slipping up at work, forgetting important meetings and client calls. Peter gave him a lecture on his sloppy work, barking his disappointment. But no matter how hard Edward tried, he felt as if he was only half-awake, slogging through his day with one foot in the real world and the other somewhere else. It was that feeling of otherness that lingered with him as he walked to the subway that night.

He heard the clicking of heels, felt a cool wind blow by him, and smelled the perfume that still lingered in his apartment. He glanced wildly around, desperate for even a glimpse of the mystery woman, but there was nothing for him to see. Frustrated and angry, he slammed his fist against the rough brick wall of a building, but it did nothing but make his hand ache. With a sigh, he continued home, convinced that he was losing his mind. Maybe he was developing some sort of mental illness. _Schizophrenia, maybe? Was that the one that caused hallucinations?_ he pondered. He didn't know. All he knew was that he felt like control was slipping from his hands, faster and faster, and he had no idea how to get it back.

That night, he was even more restless than he'd been the night before. He felt like he was constantly bracing himself for something to happen. When he went to bed, he was prepared for the flashes of memory again, and he wasn't disappointed. They were vague, but he found them strangely satisfying.

Edward continued on in much the same way for several weeks. He finally dealt with the bloody clothes and pillowcases, and his cleaning woman didn't comment on the blood on the carpet when he blamed it on a cut on his foot. She merely nodded and cleaned it up for him. He made a mental note to give her an extra-large bonus in her monthly check. The weeks were strange and foggy; he managed to hold it together at work, but the relish he'd once had for his job was gone. All he could think about was his mystery woman. She consumed his thoughts, alternately terrifying and arousing him. He had no idea who she was or what she wanted. All he knew was that he needed her.

One night, he awoke from a memory of her riding his cock until he sobbed with pleasure, and he roared out his frustration into the quiet bedroom. "Who are you?" he cried. "Just show me who you are!"

He was desperate and frantic and almost didn't notice the whisper of wind that ruffled the curtains of the balcony or the silent figure that was suddenly perched on the edge of his bed.

When he finally saw her, he nearly leapt out of his skin. His heart slammed against his sternum and the air left his lungs in a terrified gasp.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked. She crept forward, sleek and lithe and graceful.

"You don't remember me?" she asked softly; her voice was husky and sounded hurt.

"I don't know." He ran his hand through his hair and tried to take a few deep breaths. "I have these vague recollections. That was you a few weeks ago, yes?"

She nodded, and he noticed how small she was. Small and delicate, with striking features. It all combined into something stunning—something eerily beautiful. "That was me. I'm sorry, I lost control."

"I... I don't understand," he stammered. "Who...? What are you?"

"I'm Bella," she said simply.

"How the fuck did you even get in my apartment?" he asked.

She smiled, and it was a sweet but simultaneously wicked grin that sent him reeling. "Which night?"

"That night," he said.

"You brought me back here. You wanted me here."

"Wait, you asked 'which night'? Were you here other nights?"

She nodded, and he shook his head in bewilderment. "How did we meet?"

She sighed wistfully and stroked her fingertips across the bedcovers. "I've been watching you for months. You're so beautiful. I promised myself I'd only look, but I couldn't stay away." Her large eyes met his. "I didn't mean to make contact with you."

"I still don't understand," he said hoarsely.

"I know. I'm just afraid of scaring you," she said, sounding childish and vulnerable.

Edward let his head fall back against the headboard. "Tell me what happened."

"You were walking home from work. I was following you, like always, far enough away that you couldn't spot me. I think it was the rain; it intensified your scent, and I couldn't stop myself. I had to get closer to smell you better." She breathed deeply, and he felt a shiver run down his spine at the naked, hungry yearning he saw on her face. "You're like nothing I've ever run across before. You smell like heaven and hell all rolled into one. You smell like you're mine."

Her hand flew to her mouth as if she'd confessed something dark and sacred. Maybe she had. He could feel a yearning in his body to touch her. He was terrified of her, his brain whirled with strange theories about her, and yet, he still wanted her. In fact, he ached for her. His mind might have been foggy on the details of that night, but his muscle memory was strong. He could feel her cool, small body against his, bare and wanting. His cock knew every inch of her narrow walls.

"I still don't understand," he said.

"I know." She looked down regretfully, fingers still toying with the covers. When he raised her eyes to his, he saw a reddish gleam and more memories came rushing back.

"You're not human, are you?" His brain refused to admit this was even a possibility, but he knew. Deep down in his most primitive consciousness, his body recognized her as something alien and apart.

"No, I'm not." Her voice was a low, soft whisper that made his hair stand on end. His entire body felt like it was tingling, but he wasn't sure if it was from fear or excitement.

"What are you, then?"

She gave him a disapproving look. "You _know_ what I am."

"You're..." His bravado ran out, and he looked away from her strange crimson eyes. His fingers absently toyed with the scar on his neck. "You're a..."

"Come on, Edward," she coaxed. "You can say it."

"Vampire," he breathed. He was too far gone in the strange spell of having her in front of him to really grasp how impossible it should be. Besides, there was too much evidence before him. It couldn't be denied.

She nodded once, solemnly. "Are you afraid of me?"

"Yes," he admitted, and he saw her face fall in disappointment. "How can I not be? You left me bleeding in my bed."

"I am sorry for that." Her eyes flicked away from him.

"Please, I need to understand what happened that night," he begged.

Instead of answering, her eyes glowed red as she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. As the cool, minty touch of her breath brushed across him, he remembered. Everything.

**~Dreaming~**

_Edward walked home from the subway, returning to his apartment after work. It was a cold, wet night. It had been drizzling when he left work, but it was beginning to come down harder. He shivered and turned up the collar of his expensive wool coat to block the wind. Unfortunately, he'd left his umbrella in his apartment that morning._

_The streets were quiet, at least for Manhattan. The people who hurried by were few and far between and too busy to spare him even a glance. He didn't normally care, but it was starting to bother him how alone he was. After his parents' gruesome car accident, he'd shut himself off from the world. An only child, he'd never been particularly social, but after their deaths, he cut himself off from everyone. There were only a few who'd tried to keep in contact, but even they had eventually slipped away once he moved to New York._

_He'd liked it here. It was a large city of anonymous people going about their own lives with no thought to the man who lived beside them or brushed by them in the street. He could have made friends if he'd wanted to, but instead, he'd retreated further into himself. Being aloof gave him a certain air of mystery at work, and although he'd gone to a bar or two for drinks with colleagues, he wouldn't say he knew any of them._

_He was more than attractive enough to pick up random women in bars, and they satisfied the physical urges he had. He had no emotional urges. That part of him had shut down long ago. He worked, he ate, he slept, he fucked, and that was life._

_A cold drop of rain trickled from his hair down his neck and he shivered, and walked faster. They were doing construction on the subway entrance nearest his building, so he'd been forced to walk further than normal. With a huff of irritation, he pressed on, wanting a hot shower and sleep. He heard the clicking of high heels on the sidewalk first. They didn't register in his brain, and he continued on. He felt the brush of a cool breeze against his skin, different from the rain soaked wetness the wind whipped across his body. His steps faltered at the smell of perfume, dark, heavy, sensual. It was a rich, earthy scent, womanly and beguiling. Edward shook his head at his foolish thoughts and pressed on._

_He was only a block from his apartment when he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. He saw a swath of long dark hair, white skin, and the swirl of a black coat. He blinked at the sight and turned to face her. She was standing there, staring at him, appearing to be completely unaware of the rain pouring down over her. Underneath her coat, the expanse of skin from the toes of her high black heels to the hem of her jacket that ended at her knees, her legs were bare. _

_It made him pause, and she tilted her head at him._

"_Hello," she said softly._

"_Hello." He wet his lips and could taste the rain on them. They stared at each other for a long time without speaking. He could finally see her face, and it was breathtaking. Her skin was smooth and white, flawless and almost shimmering in the light from the streetlamps. Her eyes were dark, nearly black in the dim light, and her lips were full and soft looking. He broke first._

"_Can I help you with something?"_

_She shook her head no and took her lip between her gleaming, white teeth. She stepped closer to him until she was just inches away. He realized with some surprise that she was actually quite small, not even coming up to his chin in heels. She'd seemed much taller in the distance, exuding a strange air of strength despite her delicate frame. He didn't back up, but he found himself strengthening his stance, fighting the urge to back away despite the alluring way she smelled._

_She reached up and touched his cheek, her fingers icy and her touch delicate. She traced a path along his cheekbone and down to his lips. She spread the moisture from the rain across them before dipping her finger inside. It was cool against his tongue and tasted sharp and minty. He stopped breathing as her fingers retreated and her lips moved forward. Two separate instincts in his body clashed as her lips met his. One was the screaming fear in his brain begging him to turn and run as far away from her as possible. The other begged him to move closer, to draw her tight against his body._

_He did neither. Instead, he stood stock still as her cool lips caressed his. Her mouth was minty like her finger and just as cold. There was no warmth as her tongue slid against his. Just cool liquid fire that burned him from the inside out and made him feel like he was flying. He gasped against her mouth and finally reciprocated, taking control of the kiss, although he was dimly aware that she could probably hurt him with no effort at all. He didn't know how he knew that; everything he did was based on pure instinct. He was normally a rational, thoughtful person, and he had no idea where this new version of himself had come from. He only knew that he felt like she meant death to him either way. Touching her meant certain death, but he'd die anyway if he didn't._

_Despite the cool touch of her tongue and the icy air, he felt like he was on fire. The need for her grew and grew until he felt like he'd go mad unless he was buried inside of her. He pulled back gasping, the lack of oxygen making his head swim. He opened his mouth to ask her to come up to his place, but she silenced him with a finger against his lips. She took his hand, and they walked together to his apartment. They didn't pass a single person on the street or in the lobby. Once inside, she pressed him against the door, kissing him feverishly. His head swam with her scent and the feel of her touching him. He found himself in the bedroom, pushed back onto the bed with no memory of having gotten there. Things became hazy and dream-like, and for a moment, he felt like he might pass out._

_Cool hands ripped open his pants and rent the buttons from his shirt, sending them pinging across the room. Still dazed, he felt her wintry lips traverse his chest and stomach, engulfing his cock in her mouth before he even had time to register it. At first, all he felt was a strange tingling sensation, and then it felt like he'd erupted in flames. It was the prickling, burning sensation of wet skin against freezing metal, but more intense. The feeling was overwhelming, almost more than he could handle. _

_He could hear himself begging desperately, making sounds he'd never heard come from his mouth. Other than a bit of dirty talk if the girl liked it, Edward was normally fairly quiet, making only the occasional grunt or groan. She wrung sounds from him that shocked him, but he couldn't stop. The way she moved over him left his head spinning. He came until he thought he'd turn inside out, his body barely able to handle the overload of sensation._

_When she finally released him, Edward lay back on the bed, panting and gasping so hard he wondered if he'd ever breathe properly again. He was stupefied, staring at her while she shed her clothing. Fast, too fast. It was as if he blinked and her clothes were gone. But he was too enraptured by the sight of her to question it. She was as smooth and white as marble, an ancient Greek sculpture brought to life. She was too cool to be Aphrodite, though. Diana perhaps, the Goddess of the Hunt, fierce and wild and otherworldly. She slithered up his body, her movements graceful and predatory. His chest was still heaving with exertion when she situated one slim thigh on either side of his head._

_Worn out from his intense orgasm or not, he was desperate to taste her. He eagerly drew her down on him, and the minute his tongue hit her wetness, he became an animal. Although he noticed that her flesh didn't have the same give that he was used to, he pushed the strange thought aside and concentrated instead on her taste. The cool liquid simultaneously numbed and created tingles along his tongue. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to please her before his tongue was too numb to use and wasted no time on preliminaries, swirling his tongue around her firm clit and gently pushing it between her lips. Her body seemed just as responsive to his as he had been to hers. His movements were frenzied, and her painful grip on his hair urged him on. Her arousal coated his lips and tongue, and he greedily drank her down. He could hardly breathe by the time she cried out in pleasure and deftly slid down his body._

_Her icy tongue lapped at his face, licking her own arousal from him, and he felt his cock harden painfully. "Do you want me?" she asked throatily._

_He realized it was the first real words they had spoken to each other since they were out on the street._

_"Yes," he gasped._

_The words had barely left his lips when she sank down over him. He shuddered at the unfamiliar sensation of cool, rigid walls instead of the warm, yielding give he was used to. All thoughts of her utter unfamiliarity disappeared when she began to move. Her hips moved in a tormenting rhythm that made his eyes roll back in his head. The way she moved was maddening, bringing him to the edge of orgasm and back, over and over again. When she finally brought him to completion, he roared and exploded into her, his hands gripping her hips. Her face was a mask of agonized pleasure, and Edward thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful. When her eyes opened, he felt a shudder of fear run down his spine. She lunged forward, her teeth clamping down on his throat so fast he hardly registered it. He cried out, the pain from the bite shocking his body. The pain blended with the ecstasy still flooding his system, and he cried out and gripped her hair tightly. He could feel the blood being drawn from his body, and he felt his vision go hazy and white._

_"Stop," he whispered. "Please stop."_

_But she didn't stop, and he felt his consciousness begin to fade, the pounding of his heart in his ears the only thing tethering him to his body. With a snarling, wounded groan, she finally lifted her head. The last thing he remembered before he completely slipped into unconsciousness was the sight of her eyes glowing red in the dark room and the taste of his own blood on his lips as she kissed him._

**~Dreaming~**

Bella sat back and stared at him. Edward blinked rapidly, trying to re-center himself. The onslaught of memories had been overwhelming.

"What the fuck was that?" he roared.

"I gave you your memories back," she said quietly.

"I gathered as much," he snapped. "But I still don't understand. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you're mine," her throaty voice grew desperate. "You're mine, and I've tried to fight it. I fought to stay away from you for months and months, but I can't. You belong to me. Your smell, the taste of your blood, don't you understand?"

"You're right; I don't understand any of this," he said hoarsely.

Her mood abruptly changed. She slithered forward seductively. "Are you happy, Edward?"

"What?" He blinked in surprise, not understanding the question.

"Are you happy? Do you love your life? Would you miss it, if you couldn't have it anymore?"

He opened his mouth to reply automatically, then paused. "I...I suppose not," he finally said reluctantly.

Her eyes gleamed in the darkness, and she straddled his upper thighs and ran her hands across his chest. "What would you say if I told you I could give you a life you've never even dreamed of? Eternal youth, immortality, everything?" she breathed.

"The catch is I have to drink human blood," he said dryly.

"There are vampires that drink from animals," she said dismissively, "but yes, humans are what I drink. Do you have a problem with that?"

She ran her fingertip seductively across his bottom lip. He swallowed hard, torn between desperation to be inside of her again and curiosity to learn about her. He was still frightened by her, but the fear was dwindling, rapidly being replaced with a need for her that surpassed everything else.

He pulled her against him, devouring her mouth. Now that he understood what she was, he no longer found the differences in her body as disconcerting as he had before. Instead, he found her thrilling, mysterious, intriguing. He knew what she was offering him, and although he had by no means made up his mind about it, he knew he wanted more from her. More of her. Her taste was intoxicating, and he kissed her greedily. His cock was hard under her body, and he felt her shift on him, her hips beginning to move.

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes bright like smoldering coals in her white face. She cupped his cheek in her hands and leaned forward, her dark hair enveloping them both. She trailed wet lips down his jaw and to the spot where she had left the scar. Her tongue traced it, and he groaned. The sensation went directly to his cock like a bolt of lightning.

"Mine," she whispered throatily and bit.

* * *

**Notes:** So, what did you think? Are you eager for more? I had oodles of fun with Vampella and I can't wait for you to meet Vampward!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**(CONTENT and LEGAL) All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Notes: **First of all, I can't believe I did this, but I forgot to thank my pre-readers and betas in the first chapter. Soo, my apologies, because they have been an enormous help and I really would hate to try to do this without them. Major, major thanks to ContentedTwiCow, Jules, Sunflower Fanfiction, and AshesAshes for some stellar work. They all helped with various aspects of whipping this story into shape and they did wonderful job with it. I heart them.

Secondly, thank you all for your enthusiasm for the story; I really think you're going to love it! I am so excited to be posting something new.

Finally, the warning I gave you about it being non-canon wasn't meant to scare you off. I just don't want you to expect a bubbly Alice and goofball Emmett. E&B will get their undead HEA together, but I am going to have fun doing something a little different than usual with all of the characters. As much as we love the original story, sometimes it's fun to play with them a bit and do something different.

p.s. And for those of you who thought the first chapter sounded familiar, yes, it was an entry in the Pick a Pic contest and then posted as a one shot on my profile as well. Ch. 2 starts something brand new.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Bella's mouth on his neck was as agonizingly pleasurable as before. But there was a new desperation in the way she gulped down Edward's blood. It was different, more predatory. Or maybe that was only because he was more lucid this time. Before, he'd been drugged on pleasure, his mind fogged by whatever kind of spell she had put him under. This time his awareness was bright and sharp.

Mingling with the terrible, drawing sensation of his blood being stolen from him was the tingling of the nerve endings in his neck. The dizzying scent of Bella swirled around him, and Edward felt the soft brush of her hair against his cheek. Despite being fully aware of the fact that she was feeding from him, his cock grew even harder. He felt the lengthening and thickening, the way it pushed up against the soft fabric of his boxers.

Suddenly, a wave of vertigo overtook him. The stinging, prickling pleasure went on and on, before the pain began to overwhelm everything else. Edward cried out and weakly pushed at her small shoulders. She growled low in her throat, and his hands fell limply to his sides. He knew he couldn't fight her. Bella pushed him onto the bed as she continued to drink.

The woozy sensation continued and he tried again to stop her. "Stop, Bella, please," he said, his voice sounding weak, even to his own ears. He hoped the use of her name would get her attention.

_Bella, what an oddly sweet name for someone so strong and fierce,_ he thought hazily.

"Please," Edward begged brokenly, becoming aware of the thundering of his heart as it raced to pump the small volume of blood still in his veins.

He knew he was dying. She was killing him.

He could barely focus as Bella abruptly sat up, her nails digging into her own neck. He blinked dazedly as she lowered herself down on him again, so his lips were pressed right up against the gash in her throat. Something slippery and wet touched Edward's lips and he licked them, the dryness of his mouth compelling him to suck. It was the same burning, white-hot tingling mint of her arousal, but even more concentrated.

Somewhere in the dim recess of his mind, Edward was aware that she was changing him, making him into what she was. He wanted to protest—to tell her to stop. Edward knew that what she was doing wasn't right. He didn't want to change. He didn't ask to be changed. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop drinking from her. Bella finally pulled away, and his body shuddered underneath her. The pleasure was gone. The screaming agony of his dry veins burned inside him like fire, and real panic set in.

Edward's mind raced. He began to wonder he could ever survive such blinding pain. _Should it hurt this much?_ he wondered. Perhaps she'd done something wrong; perhaps he wasn't going to be turned at all. He might just be dead. He had time for one, last, lucid thought before his mind was washed away in a haze of black. _At least I'll make a beautiful corpse._

**~Dreaming~**

Edward was utterly disoriented when his consciousness returned. His body felt strange; curiously light, yet heavy at the same time. He wasn't uncomfortable; far from it. It was as though every bit of discomfort had been washed away. He blinked a few times and then opened his eyes. There was a concrete ceiling above him, and despite the distance, he could see every crack and chip on its surface.

His mind felt strangely blank, like he didn't know who or what or where he was. With a startling suddenness, it all came rushing back to him.

Bella.

Killing him, changing him—maybe.

The night before—_had_ _it been the night before?—_he'd fallen unconscious from the lack of blood. He sat up abruptly, but instead of the light-headed dizziness he expected, he found himself pitching forward, his body moving faster and further than he'd intended. Edward shook his head in bewilderment, and looked around the room. He was in a large, open space; all surfaces made of concrete. There was scaffolding draped in plastic sheets, and a pile of lumber stacked along one wall. He could smell the dust in the air and the sharp scent of pine from the boards. Was he at a construction site? But where? Had Bella brought him there?

He looked around, but didn't see her. There were no hiding spaces where she could be lurking. She was just … gone. It was nighttime; he could tell from the lack of light coming in from the windows. But he had no concept of whether it had been hours, days, or even weeks since she'd bitten and drank from him.

Edward stood up, and noticed again how different his body seemed. Power seemed to hover under his skin; the muscles and tendons primed and ready for action. He took a step forward, testing out the strange feelings in his body. It wasn't until he was standing in front of the window—just a fraction of a second after he'd thought of doing it—that he realized his worst fears had come true.

Edward had become what _she_ was. He was a vampire.

"No!" he growled. Edward felt the rage building within, bright and burning, and he let out a roar of frustration. Almost instantly, Bella was standing behind him. "Shh, Edward, it's all right. I'm here."

Her small hands, which had once felt hard as rock to him, felt soft against his back. She was trying to soothe him, but he found himself furious with her, and his skin prickled at her touch.

"You changed me into a goddamn vampire," he snarled, rounding on her. "What part of that all right?"

The calm expression on her face faltered for a moment. "You _wanted_ this."

"I never said that. I was considering it, but you ... you _killed_ me," he spat out.

"No, Edward, I ..." She looked bewildered. "I ..."

Her words trailed off again and she looked down at the floor. "Are you angry with me?"

"Of _course_, I'm fucking angry at you. You took away my life without ever giving me a chance to choose. I didn't decide this, Bella. You did."

She whimpered softly, her eyes looking sad and hopeless. "It wasn't supposed to be like this ..." Once again her words trailed off and she stared at the floor, not even seeing him.

"What did you think would happen? That I'd be grateful to you and we'd go off into the night, drinking blood and fucking? Did you expect some sort of undead happily ever after?"

She chewed on her lip; a strangely vulnerable, human gesture. But it only angered him further. He'd never felt so violated before, so out of control.

"I don't know. I didn't think you'd be angry with me," she whispered. "I thought you'd chosen to be with me."

His resentment grew with every word she spoke. "I didn't choose anything. I didn't ask for it. You _took_ it from me. You did this to me," he roared, his rage backing her up against the wall as she shrank from him. "I would kill you if you weren't already dead."

She didn't flinch, but she did look away, the corners of her mouth turning down before she spoke softly. "You still could. Not kill me, exactly. But you could end me."

"A stake to the heart?" he snarled.

She laughed softly, bitterly. "No. A quick twist and you could remove my head from my body and burn me. That's all it would take."

"And you'd just stand there and let me do it?"

She shrugged. "Even if I fought, you'd win. Newly made vampires are the strongest of our kind."

Edward made a grating, growling sound in his throat that startled him, and he whirled around and stalked to the window. "Why? Why did you do this to me?"

"Because you're mine," she answered immediately. "Don't you understand? You _belong_ to me." She whimpered again; a wounded sound that carried and echoed through the nearly empty space.

Edward shook his head and took a step in her direction. "You may have created me, but I don't belong to anyone." He was tense and irritable and felt like doing something to release the tension that crept through him.

There was a soft whisper of wind as she flew across the room to him, her fingertips digging into his upper arm. "You are _mine,_" she hissed.

He whirled around and she let go, but he could see her strengthening her stance, a snarl curling her upper lip. He should have found her predatory possessiveness completely abhorrent, but something about it made his stomach clench and his cock throb.

"Why do you keep saying that?" he asked angrily, pushing away the part of him that still wanted her in spite of himself.

The anger in her eyes faded a little, but it was replaced by hurt. "In the vampire world, there are mated pairs. Soul mates, essentially. Twin spirits. They're often why a change takes place. The vampire meets their mate and changes them into a vampire so they can be together. You're mine."

He gave her a scathing look. "How on earth can you know that?"

"Your blood. It smells different to me."

"Different how?"

"I don't know how to explain it … I don't have the words for it. It's more intense, deeper, richer maybe. More appealing. My nose recognized it the moment I ran across your scent."

"And when was that? How long have you been stalking me?"

"I … I wasn't _stalking_ you," she protested. "But I saw you months ago. You were walking home from the subway after work. I was out hunting in the area, but I followed you instead."

"Why not change me then? You could have dragged me into an alley and been done with it," he scoffed.

"I nearly did. But I wanted to know who you were as a human." Her tongue slipped out and wet her lips.

"Why would that matter?" he asked venomously.

"I love you," she whispered.

He blinked in astonishment and then laughed. It was a long, loud laugh that verged on the edge of hysteria. When it finally quieted, she seemed to have shrunk into herself, looking small and fragile. His amusement turned to anger. "You love me? You don't know me," he growled.

"I do know you," she said fiercely. "I learned everything about you. You grew up in Forks, Washington; son of Elizabeth and Edward Cullen, Sr. You moved to Manhattan to get your degree. Your parents died just after you finished there. You live alone. No family, no relationships."

"You think you can sum up my life in a few sentences?" he asked angrily. "I have dreams and ambitions. You know none of that!"

Her eyes flashed fire; her stance no longer meek and soft. "Your career? _Meaningless_. You were a financial drone. You had no hobbies, no plans to travel, and no friends. You had _nothing_."

He flinched at the cold, hard truth of her words. He found that he'd backed her against the wall again without even realizing it, his arm braced against the concrete, his snarling face just inches from her own. "And now I'm dead."

"No," she protested. "_Now_ you're alive. Not physically, of course, but you have unlimited power and resources at your disposal. And time; you have all the time in the world. You can be whatever you want—_do_ anything you've ever wanted to do. Don't you understand? I've given you the world."

Edward's hands balled into fists against the wall, sending chunks of it to the ground at their feet. "What I understand is that you changed me without my consent. I understand I'm stuck with a fucking vampire that thinks she's in love with me. And I understand, very clearly, the fact that I don't want _any_ of it."

Her expression faltered, morphing once more into something sad and broken. Bella wilted before his eyes, drawing in on herself. She slipped out from under his arm, and he made no move to stop her. The rage that coursed through his body burned hot and furious, and he slammed a hand against the wall. He found the feeling of concrete shattering under his touch oddly satisfying. Digging his fingers into what should have been an impenetrable surface, Edward went mad. He ripped and tore at the wall, destroying huge sections and not caring about the damage he was causing.

Finally, he gave up, sinking to the floor amidst the rubble, staring at his white, unblemished hands. A six-foot, square section of wall was gone, obliterated in his fit of anger. He'd torn it down with his bare hands, and yet, they were unharmed with not a scratch or blemish on them. They were perfect. Better than perfect, in fact. Even the scar on the side of his thumb where he'd cut it as a child was gone. As were the faint freckles he used to have across the back of his hands. His skin was now bone-white, and his hands and forearms were smooth as marble.

He was flawless.

Edward looked up and saw Bella standing a few feet away; her face was curiously blank of all emotion except for the strange, hopeful expression in her eyes.

"I know you're angry with me." Her voice was quiet and cam, as though trying to soothe a wounded animal. "But you're also in desperate need of blood. It's part of why you're so angry. Being hungry makes us more volatile. Can I take you hunting?"

Just the thought of blood made a searing, scorching fire rip down his throat, the need for it tearing into him with a viciousness he'd never felt before. He was on his feet and standing in front of her immediately. He felt like his body was vibrating, humming with a high tension that made him grit his teeth together.

"Now," he rasped.

She nodded, reaching for his hand but withdrawing it, a crestfallen expression on her face, when he didn't take it. She turned and he followed as she moved toward the door.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"To the park." She opened the door and closed it immediately. "Before we go, you need to know that the desire to feed is going to be overwhelming, but you can control it."

"I won't just rip out the throat of the nearest person I run across?" he asked suddenly apprehensive.

She shook her head. "No. It's not an uncontrollable urge. It's terrible—frantic and urgent—but you can rein it in."

"How?"

"It helps me to think about other things; something else that I want more."

The laugh that left his mouth was hollow, and hoarse. "I want to wake up and find out this was all a fucking dream. Will that work?"

She looked down at the floor again, sad and vulnerable. Her voice was soft, as if pleading for him to understand. "I truly thought you wanted it. I thought you wanted _me_." She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry; I know I didn't give you a choice. But I couldn't survive without you."

They had reached the same impasse that they had been at before, so he gritted his teeth. He was irritated by her hyperbole. _Couldn't live without me? Right, _he voice was cold when he spoke. "Just tell me what I need to know and take me hunting."

"We'll go to Central Park. Follow my lead. I'll feed first, and you can watch. I'll show you what to do."

"How do we choose them … the people, I mean?"

Her shrug was careless, dismissive. "We choose whoever we want. Whoever smells the best or is the most accessible."

"Do we kill them?" he asked apprehensively, not entirely sure how he felt about the idea. He wasn't the type to think that all human life was inherently precious, but he had never been a violent person, either, and the thought of taking someone's life made him uneasy.

"The thirst is terrible, but not uncontrollable. We only kill them if we want to. You'll be able to hear when the heart starts to struggle. It'll be hard for you to stop, but I'll step in if it gets too close."

"How do we keep them from remembering?" His mind flashed back to the way she'd taken his memory from him, and then gave it back.

"Look at me," Bella said softly. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. Rather than the glowing crimson he remembered, they were softer looking, a deep amber color. He now remembered that her eyes had looked like that when they first met on the street. It was why she hadn't seemed quite so unnatural to him. The red was disconcerting.

"We have the ability to manipulate people's memories," Bella explained. "Normally, our eyes are the golden color. With concentration, you can learn to remove the memory. We can't exactly read minds, but we can pull the memory from them. When our eyes are red, it's when we're focusing on the memory. No one truly understands it; there aren't a lot of vampires doing research on it, after all. You just have to learn how to use it."

"You must be able to sense it somehow though, right?" he asked, frustrated that she wasn't explaining it more clearly.

She nodded. "I can feel it. It's like a low humming. I can go right to it and sort of … tug at it."

"Will I be able to control people's memories?"

"Eventually. It will take time and practice. I'll wipe the memory clean for you until you learn how."

"So I'm dependent on you until I learn to control myself," he said bitterly.

"In a manner of speaking."

"Fine," he said coldly. "Take me hunting."

** ~Dreaming~**

On their walk to the park, Bella explained to him that the building they were in was an old warehouse being converted into expensive lofts. The interior had been gutted and new walls built—like the one he'd torn apart—to divide the space into apartments. Funding had fallen through for the developer, and the building remained unfinished while they tried to secure it again. "Why there?" Edward asked. "Why did you choose to take me there?"

Bella sighed. "It's a good place for a new vampire. You can destroy things to your heart's content without anyone noticing."

The walk from the unfinished loft to Central Park was not a short one, yet Edward was amazed to find that he wasn't tired at all. His body felt alive, humming with energy and purpose. Every sound, every scent was amplified, but he found he could almost tune it out, like he was turning the volume of a television set. He seemed to be able to control all of his senses in this way.

If he concentrated, he could hear the soft footfalls of Bella's shoes, the whisper of the denim of her jeans, even the sound of the strands of her hair, sliding over her shoulder. He could still smell the heavy, sensual fragrance of her perfume, but his memory of it before seemed muted, and waterlogged. Now it was a complex, swirling amalgamation of notes, rich and full. It seemed to fill his nostrils and linger there. It made his chest feel tight, and his cock fill with blood. _Or is it blood? What is my body composed of now?_ he thought with a frown. He didn't like that there was so much he didn't understand about what had happened to him.

_Do I need to breathe?_ he wondered. Experimentally, he held his breath, but the burning in his chest or the feeling of being lightheaded he would have felt if he was human never came. How bizarre it was, to think of himself as _not_ human. How quickly it had all changed.

Edward let out the air he'd been holding in an aggravated huff. Bella glanced over at him, and he was hit with another wave of her perfume when he breathed in again. So breathing was an automatic response; something he did out of habit, not from need. A small part of him was fascinated by all of it, no matter how unwelcome the change was; no matter how much resentment he harbored that the choice had been taken away from him.

He took another unnecessary, deep breath, and as his mind registered the scent of her perfume again; his irritation grew. It made his voice sharp when he spoke. "What the hell kind of perfume are you wearing? It's driving me crazy."

She looked up at him again, her large topaz eyes glittering in the dim light of the streetlamps. "It's not perfume, Edward. It's my scent; you're smelling … _me_."

"Okay," he said with an indignant snort. He didn't like that she was playing games with him despite knowing how upset he was. "So you just _naturally_ smell like sex and sin, sprinkled with a bit of ecstasy?" he asked scathingly. "I think it's some kind of expensive perfume laced with pheromones or something."

Bella laughed. "You're partially right. It is pheromones, but I produce them naturally, as do you. The theory is that they're there to help lure in prey. Our scent appeals to them—makes them weaker and more compliant so they don't fight when they recognize our _othernes_."

"Hmm." He remained unconvinced. "So, you smell that good to humans, too?"

"I smell good," she corrected. "I only smell so appealing to you."

"Because I'm a vampire?"

Bella shrugged and nodded with a smirk. "Your sense of smell as a vampire _is_ more acute. But it's also you, Edward. I smell that good to you because you are my mate, and I am yours."

He rolled his eyes at the ridiculous idea. "You didn't smell that good before you turned me."

She sighed. "It's complex. I smelled good to you as a human for two reasons. One was because of the mate-bond, and the other because of a vampire's natural appeal. You becoming a vampire only increased that. It strengthened the mate-bond because I was the one who turned you, because your sense of smell is more acute, and because it's a natural urge for us to mate."

"Mate? It's supposed to make me want to fuck you more?"

"Doesn't it?" she purred, wetting her lips.

"No," he said shortly, but he was lying. Edward knew he was lying. Her scent made him crazed to take her; to drive himself in to her; to feel her body surround his. To _claim_ her.

She frowned. "It should. In a mated pair, where one turns the other, it's the strongest kind of bond. It's sealed by the sharing of first blood, and the claiming of one another as mates. It's a biologically driven response."

He didn't have to analyze his body's reactions to know that there were urges and instincts compelling him to do exactly that. But she didn't need to know that. "I think you were wrong about us being mates," he lied. His stomach twisted at speaking the words, but he continued. "I don't feel any of that for you."

A wounded, raw expression of hurt flashed across Bella's face, but there was a stubborn tilt to her jaw. "You don't mean that," she asserted. "You _can't_."

"Of course I do," he said simply, glancing at her wearily. "You're nothing to me, Bella. You're a silly, childish vampire, who saw something she wanted and stole it even though it wasn't hers to take. As soon as I know what I'm doing, I'm gone. I'm not going to stick around here while you beg me to mate with you. Go seduce some other unsuspecting prick and turn _him_. Maybe you'll actually find someone who gives a shit."

She let out a keening whimper as the viciousness of his words sank in. The sound of her pain made a spot in his chest throb with an ache so powerful he would have doubled over if he'd been human. But he wasn't, and it took all his strength to harden the vestiges of what had been his human heart and kept his face cold and impassive.

"You don't mean that," she repeated; her words a desperate plea. Edward gave her a cold, disinterested glare and she shook her head. "You're lying." Her voice was less sure sounding as doubt began to creep in.

"If I felt it, wouldn't I be desperate for you? Wouldn't I be completely unable to resist you?"

Another flicker of doubt crossed her face, and Edward took a sick, vicious pleasure in her pain. "It's just that you haven't fed yet," she stated firmly, trying to convince herself that she wasn't crazy; that they were, in fact, mates that were destined to be together.

Bella refused to speak again until they were inside the park. The noise of the city diminished, and Edward detected the small, rustling sounds of animals moving in the trees and bushes. He could hear the tiny thump of their heartbeats, and the smell of blood of several different species of animals filled him. He remembered Bella saying that some vampires fed from animals, and he wrinkled his nose. It sounded much worse than the idea of feeding from humans. He paused for a moment, shocked by that realization. It was an odd feeling to realize how much he'd changed.

As they passed near a group of humans, scorching, blazing fire in his throat made it feel raw, but Bella had been right; the urge to rip out their throats wasn't unbearable. He was acutely aware of the deep, rhythmic sounds of their hearts pumping blood through their bodies, and he wanted to feed more than anything in the world, but it hadn't been nearly as hard to resist as he'd feared. It made sense; how else could vampires exist among humans and have them be none the wiser? Taking their memory would only do so much if there were bodies drained of blood lying all over.

The further into the park they got, the quieter it became. Edward could pick out individual conversations as people murmured quietly to each other. He heard the sounds of two people kissing and noticed that, due to the low groans of pleasure, they must both be male.

"Do you hear the single heartbeat?" Bella asked. "The one with no others near it?"

"Yes." It was a few hundred yards to their left, and they left the paved path to head toward it. Bella led him to a better vantage point, and they spotted the man long before he could have hoped to spot them. He was middle-aged, worn and weary, and hunched over on a park bench smoking a cigarette. From the small pile on the ground between his knees, it was obvious he had been there a while.

Bella spoke so quietly he knew no human ear could have heard the words that passed her lips, but Edward heard them as clearly as if she'd whispered them into his ear. "Always choose someone alone, find the most secluded spot you can, and pay close attention to anyone coming near. The last is the most difficult, but also the most important. It's easy to tune everything else out when you're feeding, but keeping an ear out for others will get easier with practice."

He nodded once, his eyes locked on his meal. Edward felt none of the old symptoms of nervousness; no adrenaline, no racing heart, and yet, something remained; possibly, the ghost of those human emotions.

"Watch me first." Bella walked over to the man with gently swaying hips and smiled at him. A dazed, stunned expression crossed his face when she spoke. Her voice was low and husky, and he remembered when she'd spoken to him like that, although the words were different. "Hello. Could I trouble you for a light?"

A cigarette miraculously appeared in her outstretched fingers, and Edward saw the man's hand tremble as he lifted a lighter toward Bella. Faster than Edward could dream, she dropped the cigarette to the ground, knocked the lighter from the man's hand, and her hands clamped down on his shoulders. The man barely had time to blink before she wrenched his head to the side, fingers gripping his hair. She sank her teeth into his neck, and he let out a startled hiss of pain.

Edward's cock hardened in an instant. Watching the feral expression on Bella's face as she fed was more arousing than he could have dreamed. The gleam of her white teeth against the man's sallow skin, the tiny drop of bright red blood, the power in her body as she gripped the man twice her size, as if he weighed nothing at all; they made his cock throb and the pull of her body that much stronger.

Her whine of disappointment was familiar as Bella forced herself to let the man go. Edward remembered her making the same sound when she'd let go of him. The first time. She hadn't been so generous the second time. A flash of anger at the memory made his body ripple with resentment, and he heard a low snarl that he eventually realized was coming from his own throat.

She deposited the man, none-too-gently, onto the bench and looked over at Edward. A drop of ruby liquid hung on the curve of her full lip. His snarl grew louder when he realized he wanted to lick it off her, to share a mouthful of blood before driving his cock into her and denying all others the chance to have her ever again. The fact that she had been right about how much he wanted her only made him angrier, and the part of him that didn't want to mate with her, wanted to kill her.

She stalked over to him, as lithe and predatory as ever, and he shuddered with the suppressed urge to take. To fuck. To possess. To mate.

"Drink," Bella ordered him, and he didn't hesitate. With a swift movement, he was standing beside the body on the bench. The man was dazed and pliant as Edward lifted him. He didn't think once about how odd it was to have his lip pressed so intimately to a man's neck, or the fact that the moment he clamped his teeth down, he was drinking blood. He only thought of the way it fulfilled his need as the viscous liquid flowed into his mouth.

It took a moment to find a rhythm, to work the man's throat in a way that allowed Edward to gulp it greedily down as it pulsed into his mouth. He was only vaguely aware of Bella standing to his right, but nothing else. His eyes closed in ecstasy, the sensation of drinking blood was surprisingly sexual, even though he had no attraction to the body slumped in his grip.

The coppery scent of the man's blood filled the air around him, no longer nauseating, but compelling. He remembered loathing the smell of blood when he was a human. The sick, disgusting feel of it on his mouth the first night Bella had bitten him had made him heave in revulsion; his stomach had been queasy at the very sight of it.

Now there was only the urge for more. Rational thought fled Edward in the face of greedy, desperate hunger. He could feel blood running down his chin, and yet, he gave no thought to stopping or slowing down. It was only the feel of fingers on his wrist and his name being called that brought him back.

He lifted his head and turned with a snarl to see Bella's lips inches from his own. The drop of blood was still smeared on her lip and he closed the distance between them without a thought. His tongue captured the blood on her soft lower lip with a quick flick of the tip.

Bella's sensual moan ignited something in his body, and he drove his tongue between her parted lips to taste her. The rich scent of sin and sex that hung around her was amplified by the taste of the blood, and Edward growled against her mouth, feeling his cock throb with a distant, echoing memory of his human heartbeat. He let the limp, male body tumble to the ground and roughly pulled Bella's body to his. Her small frame no longer felt alien against his; it felt right. So, so right that it made his head spin.

She gasped and grabbed onto the back of his shirt, her grip firm, but no longer overpowering. Now they were evenly matched. Another low growl left his lips when her tongue invaded his mouth, bringing with it the fresh taste of blood. He could feel it against his tongue, and the intimacy of the gesture made him that much more desperate to claim her body.

The needs of his mind and body merged until they were both one word, one desire; take. She let out a low, purring sound as his hand snarled in her hair, yanking her head back so he could fuck her mouth with his tongue.

_Yes,_ Edward thought, _this is what I need._

Their bodies slammed against a tree, and Edward pinned her to it as he dug his hand into the rough bark over her head and continued to ravage her mouth. She responded just as aggressively, and the feel of her hands tearing at his hair and her sharp teeth biting at his lower lip only egged him on. He felt deranged and out of control with need as he ripped his mouth from hers and growled lowly in her ear.

Bella's whole body shuddered against him, and Edward caught a wave of her scent. As it washed over him, his knees went weak. He realized that it _was_ her arousal he'd smelled all along; her desire for him. It pulled at him and compelled the urge for violent, wild rutting. Every memory of every human woman from his old life seemed bleached out and distant, while the memory of her grew sharper.

As intense as the previous experience with her had been, Edward knew any feelings of desire he'd felt for her then would be increased a thousand-fold now. He could sense the power in his body and knew he'd be able to thrust deeper, harder, and for longer. Bella would never tire either, doing anything and everything he wanted. The growl in his chest grew louder and more desperate; he felt unhinged by his need for her. She begged for more with a pleading whimper, and his hand thrust between her thighs. No longer cold or rigid to him, she felt burning hot, like he was in danger of going up in flames just being that close to her.

"I'm going to fuck you," Edward rasped, and she shivered again, pressing herself against him.

"Yes, Edward." Her hips moved against his hand roughly, desperately. "Take me; claim me; make me yours."

The moment the words left her mouth, the haze cleared. The staggering, blinding need for her disappeared. Angrily, he released Bella, and he heard the crack of the tree trunk as her back slammed against it.

"I said I want to fuck you. Not that I want to make you mine," Edward snarled, the pain of separating himself from her surprising him.

The look on her face and the howl that left her throat sent a chill down his spine. Never had he heard such a grieved, wordless wail of despair in all his life.

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**Notes:** So, what did you think? Vampward is pissed! And poor Vampella is heartbroken. It's going to take them some time to get this all figured out, but that'll be half the fun! Can't wait to hear your thoughts on the chapter and I will see you next week!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**(CONTENT and LEGAL) All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Notes: **As always, my thanks to ContentedTwiCow, Jules, Sunflower Fanfiction, and AshesAshes for their beta work.

Thanks for all of the lovely reviews. I am thrilled by how many of you are excited about this story and eager to jump into something new and different.

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**Chapter 3**

The sound of human footsteps approaching startled them both. Bella's grief and despair quickly became purposeful action. Edward watched as she grasped the body of the man they'd both fed from, leaned in, and licked the bite. The skin became smooth, the bite mark disappearing in seconds. His hand subconsciously went to his neck, fingering the spot where she'd left a mark on him. It was now smooth to the touch. He wondered why she'd left the mark on him before, after the first time she'd fed from him, and he realized he had no idea how any of this worked. He had so many damn questions, and no answers.

Bella quickly shifted her grasp on the man, and held his face in her hands. He was semi-conscious, and she stared into his half-closed eyes. She didn't speak, but he assumed she was wiping out the man's memory. Edward watched her intently, trying to understand how she did it, but he couldn't begin to figure it out.

It only took a few moments, and then she was depositing the body on the bench and arranging his limbs so he looked like all the other drunks passed out in the park. She grabbed Edward's hand, yanking him along with her as they disappeared into the trees. In seconds, they were far enough away for the other humans not to see them, although they could still clearly hear what was happening.

Bella slowed to a stop.

The human man and woman who had approached the bench stopped as well, and Edward heard the woman's disgusted voice. "Just another drunk—let's go, Jim."

"What was that noise though, Tracey?" the man asked.

"Who the hell knows? It's Manhattan, there are weirdoes everywhere. Just let the guy sleep it off. I'm sure he'll be fine."

The lighter footfalls of the woman quickly headed away from where Bella and Edward had left their victim, but the heavier ones belonging to the man left more reluctantly.

"That was too close," Bella muttered, beginning to walk at a normal, human pace once they were sure everything was fine.

"You're the one who is supposed to be the fucking expert on this," he snapped, following after her.

She didn't answer. Instead, she headed straight for the warehouse they'd come from. Scowling, he stalked after her. It wasn't until he jammed his hands into his pockets that he realized what he was wearing. He had on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a heavy, black sweater he rarely wore. He frowned down at it, realizing that she must have dressed him. He still had no idea how many days it had been since she changed him. She was going to have a lot of questions to answer when they got back.

To his surprise, Edward found that even without Bella's direction, he knew the way back through the maze of streets, even though he was unfamiliar with that particular area of Manhattan. He'd never been great with directions, often getting lost in the first year he'd lived there. Even now, he rarely ventured off his usual path from work to home and back. The only side trips were to restaurants, or bars and clubs. Occasionally, he would go to the apartments of the women he met, but he preferred to go to a hotel. It made it less personal.

Now he knew his way through the city as if there was a compass inside his head. It was a strange feeling. The city seemed spread out before him in an orderly grid, no longer mysterious and perplexing.

As they walked, he became aware of the drizzle of rain coming down, although it didn't touch him at all. He could feel it—in fact, he was aware of every drop hitting his bare skin—but it didn't chill him. His skin was as indifferent to it as the concrete under his feet. He could smell the rain, too, and he fleetingly wondered what it would taste like on his tongue.

Back at the warehouse, in the loft he'd woken up in, he paced. Bella sat motionless, still as a statue, on a stack of lumber. He had a thousand questions to ask her. He wanted to scream and berate her, but he found himself mute, frozen in front of a window. He stared out at the lights of the city, every bit as motionless as she. His tongue felt tied, like he couldn't spit out the questions swirling through his head.

Minutes and then hours passed. He realized he hadn't grown tired, or felt the urge to move. His mind moved faster than ever and his body was tireless. He was no longer himself. Finally, he turned to her. She lifted her eyes to his and he felt a twinge of regret for how cold he'd been toward her. How cruel.

She looked so young. Up close, when he wasn't dazzled by her other-worldly beauty he realized she barely looked out of her teens. Before, he would have pegged her as being in her late twenties, but now he would swear she was hardly of legal age. Except for her eyes, her eyes seemed ancient all of a sudden.

"How many days has it been?" he asked. He didn't know why that question bothered him more than anything else, but it was driving him half-mad not knowing how much time had passed between when she'd taken his life and when he'd woken up.

Rather than answer, she reached into the bag sitting at her feet, pulled out a newspaper, and handed it to him.

Slender white fingers snapped open the newspaper and he quickly perused the headlines. A single article caught his attention.

_Manhattan police are still investigating the disappearance of 29-year-old investment banker, Edward Cullen. His cleaning woman found his apartment empty early Tuesday morning. "He was a nice man, very quiet and neat," she said._

_Signs of a struggle, along with a small quantity of blood were found at the scene. "I didn't know him at all," a neighbor was quoted as saying. "Sure, I saw him in the elevator, but he never spoke. He wasn't a very friendly guy. He never caused any problems, though."_

_His coworkers described him as being dedicated to his work and relatively anti-social, except for being a bit of a womanizer. "Yeah, he had women all the time, but no one serious," a source at the company said. "He definitely never had a girlfriend or any close friends that I knew of."_

_His parents are deceased, and he has no siblings._

_Police have no leads at this time._

He flipped to the date on the front, and looked up at her. "Friday? Today is Friday?"

She nodded.

"Don't you speak anymore?" he snapped.

"What do you want to know?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear, her face strangely blank, and her expression neutral. He stared at her for a long moment, taking in the sight of her. For the first time, he really looked at her. Not with lust or anger, just with curiosity.

She had a slightly heart-shaped face, flawless white skin, and hair so dark it was nearly black. It was long, curling slightly at the ends, and it stopped at her waist. It looked thick and heavy, and he remembered the silky feel of it against his thighs.

He felt his cock harden at the memory, but he forced himself to continue cataloguing every aspect of her. Her topaz eyes were framed by thick, heavy lashes, her cheekbones high. She was small and finely-boned, but he now knew how deceptive that delicacy was. She was still eerily beautiful to him, though not as exotic looking now that he was no longer human. Yet, there was an allure that made his previous desire for her seem weak and lukewarm. The full curve of her red, lower lip tempted him. He remembered the heat of their kiss, the taste of blood on her tongue. He could still feel the urge to claim her.

She stared impassively back, like she was seeing through him, rather than looking at him.

"Why did you bring me here?" he finally asked.

"To this loft?" she questioned.

Edward nodded, leaning back against the window and crossing his arms. He didn't need to move, but he felt strange being still for so long. Some remnant of his humanity, he supposed. "Is this where you live?"

She shook her head no. "I live in a building not far from the park. I brought you here because I had no idea how you'd react once you awoke." She gestured to the section of wall he'd demolished, and he winced.

"Will that be a problem?" he asked. "I mean, will there be questions about what happened here?"

"No. I have someone who can take care of it."

He nodded, not really understanding, but not caring enough to question her more about it.

"Do we sleep?" he blurted out.

"No." She smiled faintly.

It was what he expected, but he still found it somewhat surprising.

"Ever?"

"We don't need rest." She stood up with predatory grace in her movements and an expression on her face that made her look far older than what he suspected her age had been when she'd become a vampire. He assumed vampires didn't age. _The unanswered questions will drive me mad,_ he thought. "Just imagine what we'd be like in bed together right now."

She stalked toward him and his hands tightened on the window ledge behind him. "It wasn't that great in the first place," he said glibly, feeling a chunk of concrete disintegrate into dust in his hand.

Her lip curled and she hissed lowly. "Liar."

Edward's voice was cool and indifferent. "I've had better."

He suddenly felt a stinging pain in his scalp as she gripped his hair and he felt her breath against his cheek as she leaned in to snarl in his ear. "You _have_ never, and _will_ never, have better than me."

Panic flashed through him for a moment; he hadn't even heard her move, and yet here he was at her mercy. Her hand twisted roughly in his hair, and he felt the answering throb in his cock. He didn't want to like it, but something about it excited him.

The fact that she excited him made him angry, and before he knew what he was doing, he had spun her around and pinned her to the concrete wall. Now she was at _his_ mercy.

Edward pressed the length of his body against hers. Her cheek was flat against the coarse wall, his hand buried in her hair, and he growled lowly in her ear. He slid his thigh between hers and she gasped, struggling just a little against his hold. Not enough to break free, but enough to excite him.

His cock was instantly hard, and when he pushed forward to press it against the soft curve of her ass, she whimpered. There was something submissive about the way she bent her head and offered her neck to him. The white length of it tempted him and he dragged his teeth along her skin, knowing how easy it would be to puncture it.

He slid the hand that wasn't gripping her hair between her body and the wall, across the narrow span of her ribs, his palm pressed flat against her. "What would happen if I drank from you now?" He could hear the sultry edge to his voice. He didn't even sound like himself anymore. His voice was a little lower, raspier.

He used the hand that was in her hair to tilt her head to the side as he licked up her neck, his tongue darting behind the soft curve of her ear. Bella whimpered and pressed more tightly against him. "I …" she gasped. "What do you mean?"

"If I sank my teeth into you, what would happen?" She let out a shuddering moan, but didn't answer. "I have this urge, Bella; this need; to bite you and drink. What will happen if I do? Will it hurt me?"

"What?" she gasped. "No. It's just something vampires like to do. We can't live off it like human blood, but it feels pleasurable to us anyway."

"Good to know," he said throatily, letting his teeth graze across her soft, white skin. It was just hard enough to cut the flesh, and he felt liquid spill out. He drew back; expecting it to be a deep, dark red, but it was clear, almost pearlescent, against her skin. It seemed so odd, but he couldn't even think straight when the scent of it hit his nostrils. It wasn't the icy mint he remembered from before she changed him, but sweet and heady. There was warmth to it now, and he could only compare it to the taste of champagne, tickling his tongue as he lapped it up. It didn't numb him like before. It excited him, setting every nerve in his body on edge.

Edward groaned and pressed harder against her body. She seemed to fit against him just right. Every hard angle of his seemed to correspond to a soft curve of hers, like he could fit himself against her without any blank spaces or gaps. She was soft and pliant in his arms, her hips slowly shifting against his.

His tongue lapped at her neck and he felt like he could sense every minuscule pore in her skin, feel each tiny, fine hair. His tongue was coated in her taste and he grew dizzier with every drop. She said it would be pleasurable to drink from her, but that didn't begin to cover it. The hand he had pressed to her ribs slid higher as he caught a whiff of her arousal. It tipped him over the edge, making him snarl and suck harder, pulling more of the sweet liquid into his mouth.

_Fuck, claim, mate,_ his mind chanted.

He couldn't seem to hold on to the rational thought that he was making a mistake. That he didn't want those things. Instead, he lost himself in the feral need taking over his body. All he could think about was the smell of her, the sultry, wet scent that made him absolutely crazed; the overriding need to be inside of her, to feel every inch of her against him.

Through the fabric of their clothes he could feel the heat between her legs as he lifted her higher, so she was riding his thigh. She let out a choking gasp that could have been his name. He could feel several layers of clothing and his hand burrowed underneath them, seeking out her bare flesh. He felt the fabric rip, and he finally closed in on her naked breast. It felt full and round in his hand, the tight little nipple puckering against his palm.

She went limp in his arms, her full weight coming to rest on his thigh. Holding her up was effortless, there was no strain in his muscles, it required no strength to pin her in place. He liked the control he felt, the way she seemed helpless in his grasp. His fingers plucked at her nipple, and he suddenly wished he could see it, take it in his mouth.

"Please," she whimpered, "please."

Her thighs were shaking against his, and Edward took one last deep pull from her neck. Instinctively, he licked slowly across it, feeling the bite there already begin to knit itself back together. He let go of her hair and his grip on her loosened. As she slid down his thigh so her feet could touch the ground, the haze in his mind retreated.

Suddenly disgusted with himself for once again finding himself falling into her lure, he snarled in her ear, twisting the words she'd spoken to him and throwing them back at her. "You had me once, but you will _never_ have me again."

She let out a breath of shock, and he flung her away. His voice was cold and hard. "I am not your mate."

He caught a glimpse of her lying on the floor, resting on her elbows. She made no move to get up or cover herself. Through the torn clothing, he could see her bare breast, milky white against the dark blue of her shirt. Her eyes were sad, the expression in them defeated, but there was a stubborn tilt to her jaw, and her hands were curled into fists.

Something odd furled in his stomach. Unwilling to spend another moment thinking about it, he turned sharply and wrenched open the window. He stepped out onto the fire escape and fled upward to the building's roof. He easily slipped over the ledge, landing in a graceful, feline crouch. He straightened slowly and rested his arms against the hard, concrete rail.

The light below shone with a sickly, green hue. His eyesight was so acute now he could see the bits of gum trampled into the asphalt in the alley between the buildings. He was easily three stories up, and yet he could pick out each individual, discarded cigarette butt, see the scattered, damp bits of paper. The air seemed foul and heavy, the rain amplifying the scent of the dumpster below. He could hear low murmurs of conversation two streets over. The onslaught of sensation overwhelmed him.

Still angry and tense from the encounter with Bella, he growled low in his throat as he shifted his stance. He could still feel his cock, hard against the fabric of his jeans, and although he didn't want to, he found his lip curling up in a smirk at the thought that she hadn't dressed him in boxers.

He heard her moving below, the soft whisper of her clothing and her almost soundless footfalls. He was surprised to hear the door to the loft close, and her feet travel down the stairs. He tracked them as they headed out of the building, and then west.

He felt a flash of panic at the thought of her being gone. He had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea how often he needed to drink blood, or what he was supposed to do as a vampire.

When her steps began to fade, he turned his attention back to the city, his panic once again turning to anger. How dare she make that choice for him? How dare she take away his life and leave him in this odd limbo. He wanted to run, to head as far away from her as fast as possible, but he couldn't. He was tethered to her, afraid to strike on out his own for fear he'd do something wrong, break some unwritten vampire law.

He thought grimly that he must look like a gargoyle perched on a cathedral roof. At that moment, he was the worst kind of cliché, and he wondered how many vampire movies he'd watched in his life. He'd enjoyed mocking the cinematic vampire; the brooding, Byronic hero mourning his mortality on a city rooftop. And yet, here he was.

Edward wanted to scream and rail at the woman who changed him and forced him into this life. He wanted to break and destroy things again, but he knew it wouldn't assuage his rage. Worst of all, he still wanted to fuck her. He couldn't believe how badly he wanted that. With no outlet for his frustration, he turned it inward, feeling something within him go cold and hard.

He was still staring morosely out at the city when it began to drizzle. The wind picked up, the rain growing icier as it wet his hair and dripped over his cheekbones. He felt it slide wetly under his collar, and still he stood there, hating himself.

Hating what she'd made him.

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**Notes:** Sooooo. That happened. Ahem. Edward is still not a happy camper but there's some major heat between them and he's going to have to reconcile that in his mind. Hope you're enjoying then tension between them because they have a long way to go. See you next week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:** As always, big thanks to some of my favorite ladies: ContentedTwiCow, Jules, SunflowerFanfiction, and AshesAshes. Stellar beta work as always!

Not gonna lie, this is a chapter I really loved as I wrote it. Hope you enjoy it just as much!

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**Chapter 4**

Edward was still perched on the rooftop when the first pinkish hint of sunrise broke through the haze over the city. Startled, he jerked to attention, scrambling over the roof ledge and down the fire escape to the window. He ducked inside the building, petrified of the rising sun.

His heart wasn't racing in his chest, his lungs weren't heaving with frantic breaths, and yet the terror in him was no less real. He flattened himself against the wall between the windows. It was the only spot he thought the sunlight might not reach. His eyes were screwed shut, as if not seeing the light might make it harmless.

He had no idea how long he stood there, utter terror consuming him. He jerked when he felt a soft touch on his forehead. Bella's familiar scent broke through his panic and he became aware that she was murmuring soothingly to him. "It's okay, Edward, it won't hurt you. You're okay."

He felt the frantic desperation drain out of him and he leaned into her touch for a moment. Her soft hands on his face were soothing as she crooned to him. "I'm sorry, Edward, I shouldn't have left. I never should have left you like that when you needed me."

Cold fury returned at the reminder that this was all her fault to begin with, and he shoved his way past her, stepping into the pale, morning light. "What else haven't you told me?" he snarled

He was so angry at her, so enraged at the fact that he was at her mercy. He knew nothing about what it meant to be a vampire. No idea what he could do, or what he was vulnerable to. Edward felt helpless, an emotion he was extremely uncomfortable with. He didn't like how out of control he felt, how volatile his emotions were. He didn't like this life he'd been dropped into.

She stood there, frozen for a moment before she blinked, and walked over to the window. She spoke softly. "I don't even know where to start."

"Well, what do you usually do?" Edward asked, irritation lacing his voice as he crossed his arms across his chest.

She turned her head to look at him. "What do you mean? What I usually do …? I don't understand."

"Come on, you must have done this before," he said impatiently.

He could see when understanding dawned. "Edward … I've _never_ changed anyone into a vampire before. You were the first," she said, turning back to stare out at the sun again. Her voice dropped to a level so low that even his now, incredibly sensitive ears could barely hear her. "You are the last. You will always be the only."

Staggered, he didn't respond for a long moment, not knowing what to say. He wasn't sure if he should even acknowledge her whispered words. "Well, what did the vampire who made _you_ tell you?" he asked finally.

He could hear the tension in her voice when she replied. "He wasn't … it … it wasn't like this for me, Edward."

He waited for her to continue, but she didn't. He was unsure of how to reply, torn between curiosity about her cryptic past, and not wanting to know anything but the bare basics about her. His goal was to learn all he needed, and then strike off on his own. He didn't want to be tied and tethered to her. He didn't want to have to depend on her for anything. He didn't need to get to know her.

"Just tell me what you know from your own experience then," he said curtly. He stalked over to the stacked sheets of drywall and took a seat.

She didn't turn to face him or acknowledge him in any way, but she did speak. Her finger traced idle patterns on the glass as she began. "The sunlight won't kill us. In fact, it has no real effect on us at all. We tend to cling to the shadows, but that's only because it makes our appearance less noticeable."

He stiffened. "What do you mean? Do I look different?" He hadn't so much as glanced in a mirror, and apparently he hadn't noticed anything when he'd seen his reflection in the window the night before.

"It's … relatively subtle. People who knew you before would certainly notice a difference, but it's not anything to worry about. You were handsome before, and in a way, it refined your features, made them more striking. You're paler, your eyes are a different color, but other than that, no, you aren't that different. You look like yourself just … less human."

He nodded, relieved that it was nothing more drastic than that. She continued. "The sunlight makes it even harder for us to blend in as humans."

He asked another question he'd been wondering for a while. "You mentioned earlier that ripping off our heads and being burned could kill us. Anything else?"

She shook her head. "We're fairly impervious, except to each other of course. We can't die from drowning, getting shot, or being poisoned. Our heads being removed paralyzes us, the flames do the rest."

Edward grimaced. "Good to know."

"All the folklore about garlic, crosses, holy water, and churches are false. Although, the smell of garlic is so pungent, it can be a bit unpleasant." She turned to face him. "What else do you want to know?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Everything."

"Do you have any specific questions?" she asked. "I'm still not sure where to begin."

"Do we age?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I have looked like this for almost a hundred years."

He blinked in shock. "Wow."

She gave him a flirtatious smile and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I know. I look good, don't I?"

For the first time in a long while he laughed. Not a sardonic chuckle of amusement, but a full, genuine laugh. "You certainly don't look a day over ninety," he commented wryly, trying to remember the last time he'd been that amused. It was long before she'd waltzed into his life and ended it.

At the thought, his smile fell. When it did, the light in her eyes dimmed and she sounded stiff when she spoke. "What else do you want to know?"

"How often do we need to feed?" he asked.

"Every three or four days is usually ideal. We can go a week or two, but it isn't a good idea. You're more likely to be out of control, and slip up. You'll probably want to feed every day for now though."

"Okay," he agreed, trying to process the idea. "What about food … food I ate as a human? Can I still eat that?"

"You can," she said, sounding vaguely repulsed. "But I wouldn't recommend it. It won't taste good, and your body won't process it, so you'd just have to bring it back up again."

He had a faint, wistful thought that he'd really miss his morning glass of orange juice.

They continued on like that as he asked random questions that popped into his head. The silence seemed to stretch out longer and longer between the questions, although he was sure he'd have thousands more. Time seemed immaterial, he wasn't restless or impatient. It was an odd sensation to a man used to deadlines, who'd always been working against the clock, trying to cram more hours into the day.

Eventually, they were both silent. He sank back against the crinkling plastic and closed his eyes for a moment. He suddenly wished he could sleep. He wanted to stop thinking, to stop taking in the world around him. It seemed like he hadn't stopped thinking since she'd changed him.

Although, he mused, that wasn't entirely true. He had also stopped thinking when he was touching her. He felt his chest rumble with a low growl, remembering the taste of her on his tongue.

"What do we have in us now?" Edward asked, abruptly sitting up again. "It's not blood. What is it?"

She turned away from the window to look at him. "I don't know what it's called."

"How can you not know?"

"I … I never really thought about it. I am sure it has a more technical name, but I don't know it. I've always thought of it as quicksilver."

"But what _is_ it?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what it is made out of?"

"I don't know that either," she admitted.

"You've been a vampire for almost a hundred years and you don't understand how it works, or even what your body is made up of now?" he asked harshly.

She frowned at him, giving him a hurt-looking half-shrug. "I've never really needed to know."

"Jesus fucking Christ," he snarled. "I _would_ end up with the most idiotic vampire ever. Just my luck."

Bella gave him a wounded look, her voice soft and hurt. "You don't have to be so cruel."

Edward felt the urge to destroy something again, but he forced himself to calm. It was a little easier than the first time, when he'd been desperate for blood to drink, but he still felt like his emotions were off kilter and hard to control. He wondered if that would change.

He rubbed at his temple, a gesture he knew he used to do often as a human when he had a headache. The frustration and irritation were the same, even if the pain in his head was only phantom. He sighed and changed the subject.

"What do you do with your time?" he asked. "Do you have a job?"

"No."

"And yet you live here in the city," he said. "Near the park, right? How on earth do you afford it?"

She smiled grimly. "Investments."

He didn't really understand the strange tone to her voice, or the expression on her face, but he merely nodded. What did it matter anyway? He wasn't going to be staying with her any longer than absolutely necessary.

"Why are we still here?" he asked abruptly.

"As opposed to …?"

"Your apartment."

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to go there."

"Any place has to be better than here," he said dryly. "As exciting as an abandoned, half-finished warehouse is …"

**~Dreaming~**

He was surprised to find that nearly a whole day had passed when they stepped outside. It was late afternoon, although the heavy cloud cover made it seem much later. The sky was dark and leaden, and it looked as though it could rain at any moment. He didn't like the way time seemed to simultaneously drag and skip, and he didn't know what time of day it was. He was disoriented enough after waking up and finding out his life had abruptly ended and a new one had taken its place. The fact that even the passage of time didn't seem quite the same was aggravating.

He followed silently alongside Bella, his feet soundless on the pavement as they headed toward her place. It didn't require any effort to move stealthily. It was like his muscles _moved_ differently now, without any conscious thought. These changes made him feel itchy and uncomfortable, like he'd slipped into someone else's body and it didn't quite fit right.

The wind caught Bella's hair, lifting a curl and sending it dancing in the breeze. Her scent wafted across his nose; tempting as ever. He pushed down the automatic response it produced, trying to ignore the way it made him feel. He shoved his hands in his pockets, forcing his attention away from her. Instead, he watched people as they passed, finally noticing the appraising glances he got from them. He was no stranger to attention in his human life, but he was sure he'd never been looked at so often, or with such intense interest.

He could sense their interest so much more acutely now, too. He could hear the indrawn breaths, the racing hearts; smell the arousal in the air. Although—he sourly noted—none of them smelled anywhere near as appealing as that of the woman by his side.

He might not like Bella, but he couldn't deny his attraction to her—at least to himself. _She_ didn't need to know how hard he was fighting to keep his hands off her.

A suddenly racing heart snagged his attention and he looked to his left. It belonged to a leggy redhead and his eyes roamed over her appreciatively. He smiled crookedly, and when his eyes raked over her impressive curves, and he actually heard the skip in her heartbeat. His nostrils flared at the mingled scents of her arousal and the blood thrumming through her veins.

He wondered what it would be like to fuck her and drink her blood. He offered the woman another slow, appreciative smirk, but he saw her smile falter and shrink back. He heard a low growling sound coming from his right and he turned to see Bella snarling at the woman.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed at her.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the redhead scurry past, as if relieved their distraction with one another had turned their attention away from her.

Bella's snarl morphed into a sneer. "What were _you_ doing?"

"Just testing the appeal of this new body." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I did pretty well as a human, just imagine how well I'd do now."

She whirled around so she was right in front of him and he rocked back on his heels. He had no problem remaining upright, but she'd still taken him by surprise. "This new body is _mine_," she hissed, clutching his shirt in her fist. "You wouldn't have it if it weren't for me, and you certainly won't be trying it out on anyone else."

"Calm the fuck down;" he hissed back, "you're drawing attention."

Her eyes darted to the people around them and she slowly let go of his shirt. Thankfully, there weren't too many people close, and for the most part their gazes had already drifted back to their companions or their phones. There were always people acting oddly in New York City.

**~Dreaming~**

Bella's apartment was in one of the pricey buildings that circle Central Park. It wasn't the most expensive, but it was close. Edward had made a substantial amount of money as an investment banker and shelled out plenty for his sleek, modern apartment, but it wouldn't begin to cover what Bella had to be paying.

When he was standing inside her beautifully restored, pre-war, two-bedroom apartment, he let out a low whistle. "How the hell do you afford the rent on this place?" he asked.

"I don't pay rent."

"You _own_ this apartment?"

Amusement crossed her face. "I own the building."

"What … but _how_?" he asked.

"Let's just say I acquired it many, many years ago."

He nodded, his curiosity overriding his lingering feelings of annoyance with her earlier behavior. He was about to ask her to tell him more about how and when she'd bought the place, when another thought occurred to him. "Can I go back to mine?" he asked.

"Your apartment?" Bella asked, curling up gracefully in a cream-colored, upholstered, armchair. Edward nodded. "No. With you missing and the police still investigating, it's a crime scene, Edward. They'd notice. Not to mention what would happen if the staff in the building saw you."

"Fuck." He sank into the chair across from her, his thumb rubbing absent-mindedly across the soft, velvety fabric of the arm. He could feel every tiny ridge and loop in the weave of the fabric against the skin there. He looked at his thumb, idly wondering why his skin was so much more sensitive now.

He lifted his head when Bella spoke. "If there's something small, like a family trinket, I could get it for you now. Do you have a will, or anyone who is going to inherit your belongings?"

He shook his head no. "Everything important is in a safe deposit box, and I don't have any need for it right now. I have no will. I lived alone, I didn't date, and I have no family. There is no one."

She nodded. "Once the apartment is sold and the police release the scene, I can make sure someone keeps an eye on things. Either the property management company will donate it all to charity, or sell it. I'll make sure you get what you want of your belongings."

Edward nodded once, stiffly. "Fine."

It wasn't that he would miss his belongings in particular; it was just another reminder that Bella had taken the choice away from him when she changed him. And _that_ he didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive.

With nothing better to do, Edward wandered around Bella's apartment. It was beautiful, luxurious, and soft. Everything about it, from the colors to the lines of the furniture, was soft. All around him were feminine slopes and delicate colors. It certainly wasn't his taste at all, but it suited what he'd seen so far of her. She was fierce and predatory, but there was something soft and vulnerable lurking underneath. He couldn't get past the juxtaposition of how old she really was and how young she sometimes seemed.

Despite his plan to not ask about her past, he was tempted. There was so much about her he couldn't quite put his finger on, and it seemed like her past must play a large part in it. He kept feeling like he was missing something about her, something vital. He shoved away the thought, tired of even thinking about her.

His feet carried him to the other end of the apartment, peering in one room after another. The apartment was filled with antiques; including a gleaming, hardwood dining table to seat twelve that he imagined didn't get a lot of use. There was what he assumed had been a bedroom that had been converted into a library, with floor to ceiling shelves, filled with books. And finally, he came to her bedroom.

In the center of the far wall was an enormous, carved wood, four-poster bed. There were mounds of pillows and blankets, and gauzy hanging curtains draped from the canopy. The rich, dark wood tones contrasted with the cream and gold color scheme. Despite the soft, delicate colors, the lush decorative details and ornate mirrors scattered throughout the room gave the impression of a Sultan's harem, or Parisian bordello. Something designed for seduction, for sensual exploration.

As if the images that conjured up weren't enough to set Edward's teeth on edge, the air seemed saturated with Bella's scent. It tore through him, searing his nostrils, and ripping through his body. His whole body tingled and he felt like someone had delivered a jolt of electricity to his brain and lifted the top of his head right off. But in a _good_ way, he realized. He remembered the half a dozen or so times he'd done cocaine in college and realized it felt exactly like that. Hazy human memories of getting high and fucking random girls flashed through his mind, and he realized he was gripping the doorframe.

"Edward?" a soft, tentative voice said, and he could feel Bella just behind him. The hair on the back of his neck lifted and he gritted his teeth to keep from spinning around, grabbing her, and throwing her onto the nearest flat surface, and fucking her until she begged him to stop. But he couldn't. That would be admitting to her that he did feel the nearly unbearable pull to her.

Gentle fingers loosened his grip on the doorjamb and then she ducked under his arm, her shoulder brushing against his ribs.

"What are you staring at?" she asked quizzically.

"Nothing," he said hoarsely.

She was turned away from him, staring into the bedroom as if she could figure out what had captured his attention. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, leaving the side closest to him bare. The naked, white flesh looked so soft and tempting. He couldn't help but picture her pinned to the very large bed just a few steps away, his body moving roughly over hers as his teeth sank into her. He could practically taste her, the remembered sweetness of—what had she called it?—quicksilver on his tongue. _What an idiotic name_, he thought. But it would work, until he could discover what it actually was.

Afraid he'd cave, give in to the urge to take her and claim her, he shoved past her and stalked across the room. A half-open door led him into the bathroom, and he slammed the door shut behind him so hard he heard the wood crack. He leaned on the counter, his head hanging low between his arms and his teeth clenched as frustration coursed through him. Why couldn't he stop? Why couldn't he just turn off his attraction to her? Bella's words about vampire mates ran through his mind, but he growled low in his chest and shook his head. That wasn't it. That _couldn't_ be it. There had to be some other explanation.

He lifted his head, and for the first time, caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The room was dark and windowless, and with the door shut it should have been pitch black. However, his newly-sensitive eyes had no trouble seeing. His face seemed leaner; his cheekbones so sculpted there were faint hollows below them. There was nothing gaunt about his features though, simply more refined. Without his eyes ever leaving his own reflection, he flipped on the light in the room to take a closer look. His skin was as pale as he expected with every faint blemish or freckle he'd had before now gone. His nose was a fraction straighter, his lips fuller, his normally unruly hair and brows even seemed neater. There was a faint dusting of stubble on his jaw, just enough to highlight it without looking scruffy and unkempt. His eyelashes were longer and thicker, but the most noticeable change was his eyes. They were a dark, rich amber color beneath the heavy lashes.

He looked _good_. He grinned at himself in the mirror, momentarily forgetting how much he hated the fact that he'd been changed into this creature. Even his teeth were whiter and more even, he noticed. The canine that had slightly overlapped the tooth next to it was perfectly straight. He poked experimentally at it, half expecting fangs to grow, but it remained the same. His canines had always been somewhat pointed, but they were no more so than they'd ever been. Belatedly, he realized what an idiot he'd been for even thinking they'd grow. The bite mark Bella had left on his neck had been shaped just like a human bite, with two crescents, not two puncture marks.

Grudgingly, Edward had to admit that he wasn't altogether sorry about the changes to his physical appearance. If there was one good thing about this entire situation, it was that he had never looked better. Being a vampire suited him. As for the rest of it, he'd learn what he could from Bella, and leave her behind for good. That was the only way to make this new life—or whatever it was—tolerable.

He turned to leave, but caught sight of the large, luxurious shower. He supposed that he technically didn't need to wash; he didn't seem to sweat anymore, or have any other normal bodily function—except hunger for blood and sexual arousal, he thought grimly. But a shower sounded nice.

Edward stripped out of his clothing and turned the water on before stepping inside. Despite the age of the building, the water pressure was strong, and it was immediately hot. With a groan, he situated himself below the stream of water. He could feel each tiny drop against his skin and he had to admit, it felt incredible. Edward braced his arms on the shower wall and let it beat down over his back. His muscles might not have actually felt tight and achy, but the familiarity was comforting, allowing him to mentally relax.

After a long while, he straightened up, running his hand through his hair to slick it back. He glanced down, taking in the changes to his body. He'd always been very fit, diligently going to the gym to work out, but the definition to his muscles was even more impressive now. He wasn't bulkier, just lean and cut. His hand trailed over his firm pecs, across the ridges of his abdomen, noticing the sculpted v along his hips. His hand wrapped around his cock automatically, feeling the short, neatly trimmed hairs along the base.

He squeezed his dick roughly, feeling it grow in his hand. Edward groaned, realizing that even his own touch felt better now. His hand moved slowly at first, exploring the change in sensation; everything was heightened now. He hissed at the feeling of his thumb sliding across the head, feeling the slippery wetness there. Pausing, he examined his cock critically, wondering if it was any bigger than before. Probably not. He laughed softly to himself; it wasn't like it needed to be any larger; he hadn't exactly been short-changed in that department.

Edward's hand began to move again, a little quicker this time, stroking rhythmically. He tried not to think of Bella as he did so, her mouth wrapped around him, her pussy engulfing him. It was impossible though. Trying not to think about something was practically a guarantee that he _would_ think of it. Eventually he gave in, feeling the surge of pleasure in his body when he did so. The images were a montage of the moments they had together, blending and swirling until he couldn't see or think or do anything but _feel_. Prickling sensations covered his entire body and he felt the low, urgent clench in his belly.

With a hoarse groan, Edward came, painting the wall of the shower. When the next image popped into his head, it wasn't a memory, but a fantasy. He could see Bella in front of him, naked and wet; his come dripping down her lower back and over the curve of her ass.

His cock throbbed in his hand at the thought of marking her like that and he snarled viciously. Why did he want that so badly? Why did the need for her rip and tear at him with a clawing, ferocious hunger? And how the hell was he ever going to resist her?

It had only been a few days.

How long would it take him to get acclimated to being a vampire, to feel like he could safely go off on his own?

And how long could he keep his hands off her?

Edward washed and turned off the water, realizing too late that he'd probably put on quite the show for Bella. He had no doubt that she would have heard him in the shower and known exactly what he was doing. He grunted in irritation, and reached for the soft, cream-colored towel hanging from the bar on the wall. He dried himself and wrapped it around his waist tightly. He realized that the clothes he'd worn before were covered in plaster dust from the loft. He didn't really want to change back into them. Steam billowed out of the bathroom as he stepped out. He paused when he realized Bella was standing in the bedroom waiting for him.

He felt a trickle of water run from his hair, down his neck and over his collarbone. He saw her lips part, and her tongue swipe over them in a slow lick that he could almost feel against his own skin. Edward imagined her tongue along every inch of his body, his cock rising at the thought as if he hadn't just come.

"Do you need something?" she asked.

The look in her eyes was one of naked, unguarded yearning. He could smell her desire; see the way her nipples pebbled under the thin silk of the pajamas he just now realized she was wearing. She was barefoot, her hair hanging long and heavy over her shoulders. The sweet, delicate look she had right then was a sharp contrast to the hunger in her eyes. She stepped forward, her feet silent on the plush carpet.

Her hands were trembling as they reached out to touch him. Edward didn't move, standing stock still as her fingers ghosted over his bare, damp chest. The touch was so light he almost couldn't feel it, and yet it was like heat, branding across his sensitive skin. A part of him wanted to tell her that he needed clean clothes, and ask if she had any for him. Another part—one more desperate and primal—wanted to tell her all he needed was her.

He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what would come out.

* * *

**Notes: **Well, Edward's feeling a bit conflicted there, isn't he? What do you think he'll do next? (and wasn't that an evil cliffie?) Hope you enjoyed Edward in the shower, I thought the whole scene in the bathroom suited his narcissistic tendencies perfectly!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:** Thanks to my betas, ContentedTwiCow, Sunflower Fanfiction, Jules, and AshesAshes.

And once again, thanks to all of you for your great reviews. I LOVE reading them. I wish I had the time to respond, but trust me when I say I eagerly read every single one as soon as I get it!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Edward lay back on the soft couch, his forearm draped over his eyes. He felt edgy and tense, gritting his teeth together so hard he was sure they would have crumbled under the pressure if he'd still been human.

He'd managed to resist telling Bella he wanted her, but just barely. He had no idea where he'd found the strength to snarl at her that he needed a change of clothing, but it was enough to snap him from the haze of lust he'd been in. She looked crestfallen when he yanked away from her touch, but she'd wordlessly shown him the closet. Men's clothing filled one side of it, and she quietly told him that it was all brand-new, bought just for him. With a terse nod, he'd grabbed the clothing and retreated back to the bathroom to dress.

Now he was on the couch in the living room, trying to ignore the fact that she was the one currently in the shower. He could hear the splash of water and the quiet noises she made as she picked up bottles and set them down again. He was grateful that the one thing he couldn't hear was her pleasuring herself because he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to resist her if she did.

He heard the water shut off, the soft rasp of cloth on her skin, and her nearly soundless footfalls as she emerged from the bedroom, her hair still damp. She was dressed in her pajamas again, and he tensed, expecting her to lay on the seduction, but she was subdued. "Do you want to go feed?" She asked quietly.

Edward sat up abruptly, not even bothering to hide his eagerness. The need for it burned through him, eclipsing even the need he had for the woman who'd made the suggestion. "Yes," he rasped.

"Give me a moment. I need to dry my hair." She disappeared for a short while, and he could hear the hum of the hair dryer before she re-emerged, dressed in snug jeans, a warm sweater, and flat boots. "The temperature has dropped, and it's windy tonight. Dress accordingly."

He looked down at his rather similar outfit and frowned as he followed her toward the front door. "I thought we don't get cold?"

"We don't. It's to keep up appearances," she explained, stopping at a closet and pulling out a heavy leather jacket and scarf for him, and a short wool coat for herself. "We have to appear as human as possible, vulnerable to the weather and temperature."

"Right." He shrugged on the jacket and took the proffered scarf, as well.

She wrapped her own scarf around her neck, the soft color reminding him of the faint smudge of color on the horizon at dawn that morning.

Out on the street, he picked up the conversation again. "What else should I do to appear human?"

Bella glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Try not to remain too still. Fidget, shift your weight, remember to breathe. You don't need to breathe to survive, but if you keep in the habit of doing it, it makes it much easier to appear human. Right now you're doing it unconsciously."

He laid his palm on the soft leather under the scarf and nodded, realizing he had been breathing without even thinking of it.

"Our bodies feel cool to humans. In weather like this, it's easily explained, but be extremely cautious in the warmer months," she instructed. "Be careful not to move too quickly, and be conscious of your strength."

Edward nodded, absorbing all of the suggestions she gave him. With every new bit of information, he felt slightly less panicked. He was no happier about what Bella had changed him into, but at least it was a little less terrifying. The knowledge made him feel more in control.

The park was quiet, even more deserted than the last time, and rather than tamp down his awareness of his surroundings as he had been doing, Edward let it expand. Small animals rustled through the leaves, and he could hear the chatter of a small group of girls a few hundred yards ahead of them.

"How many are there?" Bella asked, and he frowned at her in confusion before realizing she knew the answer; she was just testing him.

No better way to hone his skills, he supposed, so he focused on them for a moment before answering. "Five."

He could hear their heartbeats, the tipsy giggles, and tottering steps in too-high heels.

"Very good," Bella praised him, and he pushed away the brief moment of pleasure at her compliment.

The stumbling footsteps halted. "Where're you going?" A voice slurred.

"Home," another said, laughing. "Come on."

There was a flurry of hugs and drunken plans to get together the following day. The four loudest—and drunkest—veered off to the right and the more sober one headed left. Bella went left. Her voice was quiet as she spoke. "We'll take this one. Do you want to try it first?"

"What do I do?" Edward asked apprehensively.

"Be cautious approaching her, she'll be skittish. Make sure to make eye contact and smile. It seems to relax them; you'll be able to get quite close. When she seems a little woozy and dazed; bite."

"Okay," Edward said, sounding more confident than he actually felt. Bella hovered in the background, but Edward strode toward the girl. She was young, college age maybe, and very pretty.

"Excuse me," he called out, trying to keep his voice polite and non-threatening, but she still jumped. He heard her heart skitter and then race, her hand flying to her chest as she whirled around, her foot poised as if she was going to back away from him.

"Yes?" She said warily, her hand digging into her purse. Edward froze, fearing pepper spray, and then realized he was probably impervious to it.

He spoke even more softly, giving her a reassuring smile. "I just got turned around," he lied glibly, trying to channel the befuddled confusion he'd felt when he'd first moved to the city. "Which way is East 60th street? I just moved here recently, and I'm totally lost."

She relaxed a little, her shoulders lowering fractionally. He gave her another smile, and she finally met his eyes. "Oh," she said as she exhaled. "Uh, you're a long ways away. We're right near the North Woods, and that's all the way at the other end of the park."

"Damn," he said, moving a little closer to her, smiling again.

Her eyes went foggy and unfocused, her body leaning in toward him. Edward took her by the shoulders, pulling her to him. He felt awkward as he clumsily shifted so he could bend her head to the side, but when her smooth skin was just inches from his lips, the urge to drink took over and he bit.

She gasped and then sagged in his arms. The blood flowed into his mouth, rich and heady. It was better than any liquor or the freshest, most flavorful orange juice he'd ever tasted. He gulped greedily, and a little blood spilled out from the corner of his mouth. It was even better than last time, and the fact that it was a female body in his arms made it that much more erotic.

He felt soft fingers on his forearm, and he growled low in his throat. He wanted more. "Shh," Bella soothed, "we can share."

The girl was sandwiched between them, and he watched as Bella bit down on the other side of the girl's neck. Their eyes locked on each other, he watched Bella lick her lips. He could smell the sultry, tempting heat of her arousal, and he knew she found it as erotic as he did. With a now-familiar regretful sigh, Bella pulled away, her tongue trailing up the young woman's neck in a slow, sensual lick. "We shouldn't take any more," she reminded him softly.

He sighed, too, and pulled away, his tongue repeating Bella's action on the other side, closing the wound and smoothing the skin. The girl was unconscious and paler than she had been, but her heart was still pumping without much strain. He was getting better at this.

"Now what?" Edward said, still holding the girl upright as her head lolled onto his shoulder.

"Carry her to the bench there," Bella said, nodding at one a few hundred yards down the path. He did, depositing her on the bench carefully. He backed away, and Bella stepped closer. The girl's eyelashes fluttered, and Bella cupped her cheeks in her hands so when they opened their eyes met.

He watched closely again, but he had no more clues about how removing her memory worked than he had the first time. He sighed in frustration and raked his hand through his hair.

Edward was surprised by how gently Bella laid the girl's head down on the bench and the way she tucked the girl's jacket more tightly around her. Edward moved to return the way they came, but Bella stopped him.

"Wait, Edward. I want to keep an eye on her for a few minutes. She should be fully conscious again soon, but I want to be sure she's up and moving before I leave." Edward glanced at her in surprise. Bella smiled grimly at him and continued. "There are a lot of people who would take advantage of her, given the opportunity. I don't want it on my conscience knowing she got hurt or killed because I left her vulnerable."

He nodded and followed her into the wooded area just off the path. Bella dropped gracefully onto the ground and crossed her legs, her fingers idly toying with the brown, wilted grass. Edward couldn't sit. He felt charged, his whole body tingling with the flush of fresh blood. He hadn't really noticed it the time before, but it felt as though his entire body was lit up, singing with life and energy.

"Is it always like this?" Edward asked.

"Always like what?" Bella asked, staring up at him.

"The way I feel right now … I feel … energetic … charged somehow."

"Aroused?" Bella asked, her voice throaty and suggestive. She continued when he didn't answer. "Yes, it's always like that. Feeding is always extremely thrilling."

"I feel like I need to run," he admitted. "I'm all … restless right now."

"I'll take you outside the city when we're done here. Somewhere we can run."

He nodded gratefully. He felt as if he'd explode if he didn't move soon. Wondering what time it was, Edward's hand slid automatically into his pocket for his phone. He came up empty and sighed heavily. "No phone?" he asked.

"I left it at your apartment."

"Right, crime scene," he said, bitterness lacing his tone. "Can I get a new one?"

She smiled sadly at him. "Who would you call?"

He opened his mouth to answer and then shut it, a stab of anger shooting through him when he remembered that he couldn't call anyone from his former life. And he didn't know anyone but Bella now. He gritted his teeth together and nodded.

"What about money? Am I to be kept like your pet?" he asked snidely. "Or can I actually have access to some of my money?"

Bella sighed and glanced at him out the corner of my eye. "I'm not trying to treat you like a pet, Edward. I'm trying to _help_ you."

"Well, I wouldn't need help if it weren't for you," he spat.

Her teeth worried her lip, and she ripped at the grass in front of her. "Right."

"Just … look, can I have access to my money, or not?"

She nodded. "We can find a way. I know a guy who helps me out with that sort of thing. I'll take you to him tomorrow."

"Fine," Edward agreed.

They were silent until the girl they'd fed from stirred and sat up with a groan. "What the fuck?" she muttered dazedly. Edward watched as she got to her feet, swaying woozily for a moment and then steadied. "Jesus, I should have eaten more."

She shook her head, her hand going to her neck, wincing slightly with a puzzled frown before her expression smoothed out. She patted her pockets, pulling out a cell phone and what appeared to be a credit card and ID, stuffed them back in, and then moved slowly down the path. She was still a little shaky, and Edward glanced at Bella as she stood and followed the girl at a discreet distance. Edward fell into step beside her, both of them walking silently as the girl cut through the park and headed out onto the city streets. They veered off once she was inside what they presumed was her apartment building.

"I'm surprised you care that she made it home safe," Edward said.

Bella's jaw tensed. "I'm not a monster, Edward. We don't _have_ to be monsters."

He had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at her that changing someone into a vampire unwillingly, was pretty monstrous. But he was too emotionally exhausted to argue with her anymore.

They ended up back at Bella's building but didn't go upstairs to her apartment. Instead, they went to the underground garage. It was filled with expensive vehicles, leaning heavily toward Mercedes, BMW, Bentley, and a few more exotic choices.

He didn't know what he'd expected her to drive, but his jaw dropped when he saw her unlock a sleek white sports car. "You own a Lotus?" he said, stunned.

"Mmhmm." She grinned at him and slid inside, batting her eyelashes at him. "Coming?"

Edward walked around to the other side of the car and got in, his hand caressing the soft black leather of the dash appreciatively. "This is … wow."

The rumble of the engine nearly made him moan aloud. Although he didn't own one—he'd considered it too impractical while living in the city—he'd had a fascination with cars since he was young. A Lotus Exige was the kind of car he'd salivated over for years.

The car flew through the Manhattan streets, Bella's deft touch coaxing it to purr and growl its way out of the city. Although at first he tried to hide his fascination, he was enthralled, and eventually stared at her unabashedly. A small smile played on her lips, and she looked relaxed and completely in control as she shifted seamlessly and cornered smoothly, winding her way through the city streets and off the island.

The car was an absolute wet dream, and Edward had to admit that Bella driving it only added to the appeal. Once out of the city, she put the windows down and the wind blew through her long hair, sending it dancing, brushing against his cheek. They drove for a long time, and the moment they hit a long stretch of deserted road, she opened the car up.

Edward closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the cold air on his cheeks, the roar of the engine vibrating, and the sharp thrill of the experience. With a quick, controlled turn, she took the car down a long winding path, the speed abruptly dropping off. They were in a heavily wooded area, and she slowed the car to a stop several hundred yards in.

"Like that?" she asked teasingly, her fingers idly caressing the gear shift.

"Hell yeah." Edward was surprised by the roughness in his voice. "This is an incredible car."

What he didn't tell her was that the way she handled it was what he found the most arousing. And the way she was playing with the shifter made him think of her touching his cock.

They both got out of the car, and Bella turned to face him, resting her elbows on the roof. "I bet you're even more riled up now, aren't you?" She asked.

He nodded. He felt his body singing, vibrating with energy. "Yeah," he rasped.

"Let's run," she said with a wicked, teasing smile.

Faster than he could process, she was gone, streaking through the trees. He heard her laughter and followed, feeling the stored up power in his muscles as he took off. He was shocked by how fast he could move, how easily he sped up and how quickly he caught up to her. She darted ahead, just out of reach, and laughed again, young and joyous sounding.

It was contagious, and he felt something in his chest loosen. He felt so free, the quicksilver in his veins feeding his muscles, allowing him to move like he'd never moved before. The trees were a blur as he followed the sleek, lithe body ahead of him. _She moves like the car,_ he thought idly, _with quick, controlled power_. The curve of her hip and the length of her legs taunted him, his eyes able to see every movement she made in the faint moonlight.

They ran for hours, never tiring, never growing bored. It was thrilling, winding their way through the trees, and up and down mountains. It was surreal, too; Edward couldn't quite grasp the fact that his body was capable of this sort of athleticism. But he loved it. It was the first time since she'd changed him that he was truly happy to be a vampire, happy to be in this new body. It didn't feel alien or unnatural … it felt _right._

He gained on Bella a bit, his long strides eating up the distance between them, and he caught a whiff of the deep, drugging scent of her arousal. A thrill that felt very much like sexual arousal had been thrumming through him since they began running, but now it slammed into him, his cock so hard it ached against the tight pressure of his jeans. He growled lowly and her steps faltered before resuming their steady pace, another few miles disappearing beneath their feet.

With a snarl, he tackled her to the ground, his body covering hers and his teeth sinking into her neck before he could even think twice. She let out a throaty groan, her body wriggling under his in a way that made him even harder. The curve of her ass pressed right up against his cock, and his fingers threaded through hers, capturing them and forcing them to dig into the damp leaves below them. The earthy scent mingled with her now-familiar arousal, and he rutted against her as he drank. His head was spinning, swirling with the urgent, desperate need to drive inside her.

A swipe of his tongue was all it took to close the tear in her neck, but he kept his head bent low over her as he rocked their bodies together. "Fuck, why do I need you like this?" he snarled in her ear.

"I need you, too," she whimpered.

"I don't want to," he said with a growl. "But it feels like I'm about to jump out of my own skin with need for you."

"Do it," she pleaded with him. "God, please, just take me. I can't stand it either. I'm _begging_ you."

Edward shifted backwards, wrapping her long, silky hair in his fist as he tugged her back with him until she was resting on her hands and knees. His body covered hers, and she was small enough that he could speak right in her ear. His hips still rocked against hers, mimicking the motions of fucking her. "You want me inside you?"

"Yes, God, yes," she said shakily. "More than anything."

"Beg me," he snarled, spinning her around as he stood, so he was looming over her while she knelt in front of him.

"Edward, _please_. God, I've never needed anything so much. I need you filling me, fucking me. I don't care what you do to me, just do _something_." Her voice was raw, desperate. He loved that she needed him like that. He liked the power he had over her that she'd do anything for him. Her hands clutched at the fabric of his jeans, and her eyes stared up at him with a naked yearning that tore through him and left him feeling shaken and strange.

She was almost sobbing now, and the whimpering sounds made his chest ache. But the sight of her kneeling in front of him, begging to touch him was a powerful aphrodisiac. Her desperation for him made his cock painfully hard. He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to find that cold, hard place within him that was still furious at her for what she'd done to him. The moment it slipped into place, he opened them again and looked down at her. His voice was clipped and icy. "You haven't earned that."

"I need to touch you, please, Edward. Just give me that." Her voice broke, cracking as she leaned her forehead against his thigh, her shoulders shaking. "You don't know what it's like. You don't know how much it aches. How bad I need you. _Please_."

"Take out my cock," he said between gritted teeth.

Her head jerked up, and her wide eyes met his. There was no hesitation though. Faster than he could blink, his jeans were open, and he hissed as the cool night air touched his cock. Her hands were warm though, almost scorching as they began to move over him. Her strokes were slow but firm, and he growled low in his throat at the pressure.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice almost reverent. "You don't know how much I need this."

Moonlight slanted through the trees, turning everything strange and dream-like. He stared down at her, trying to understand why she was thanking him for the privilege of touching him, but his mind was going foggy at the feel of her hands on him. One hand was still making slow, steady strokes, but the other was playing with his balls, caresses interspersed with gentle tugs that sent sharp little jolts of pleasure through his entire body. "Yesssssss," he hissed. "Fuck, keep doing that."

Her voice was low and husky. "Anything Edward, whatever you want."

Her thumb swiped over the head of his cock, spreading the wetness across the tip. There was a lot of it, enough to slick her hand, and it intensified the sensations, making his cock tingle with warmth. The guttural sound that left his mouth surprised him and he closed his eyes, throwing his head back at the pleasure.

Edward suddenly wished he could be outside his body, seeing her kneeling at his feet, worshiping his cock. For a moment, he forgot he was a vampire, forgot he was furious and resentful of the woman who was pleasuring him so thoroughly. His body was on fire, all of the pleasure radiating out from his cock until every inch of him burned. All he could do was _feel_. It was the sharp sting like when she'd changed him into a vampire, the raw pleasure of being inside her, and the rapture of drinking blood.

The roar that left Edward's mouth was feral. There was nothing human about it. It was pure, animal fulfillment. The trees shook, and he heard squawks and the heavy beat of wings as startled birds took to the sky. The feeling that swept through him was nearly indescribable, his mind too wrecked to even comprehend it. It burned and burned and burned, going on and on until he was nearly howling. He was coming, over and over, spurting into her hand like he'd never stop. Her small hands felt like they were everywhere at once, touching, caressing, tugging, and driving him mad.

Time flowed and surged, and Edward had no idea how much later it was that he finally stopped coming, and his awareness returned. His chest was heaving, and he swore he could feel an echo of his heartbeat racing through his chest. "What the hell was that?" He asked roughly, opening his eyes to stare down at her.

The world seemed to spin for a moment before he got his bearings. Bella was still kneeling at his feet, her lips parted. Her hands slowly, reluctantly, left his cock, and they shone pearly white in the moonlight, painted with his glistening come. Something deep and primal surged within him, and he remembered the urge he'd had in the shower earlier to mark her like that. He growled lowly and she shuddered, her teeth sinking into her full lower lip.

"That was just a taste of what it can be like between us, Edward." She rose gracefully to her feet, her eyes never leaving his. "If my hands on you feel that good, just imagine what it'll be like when you fuck me."

A heavy, satiated feeling was stealing over him, making him want to pull her close and tuck her against him. He could already feel the way she'd fit in his arm, the way her head would rest just so on his shoulder, the way her fingers would slip between his like two puzzle pieces locking together. He fought his urges, forcing the part of him that was dead and cold to take control once again.

"I think you have low standards." He sneered. "I assure you, I've had better."

The lie he told lay heavy on Edward's tongue, and he could see that Bella didn't believe him for a moment. Her eyes burned into his defiantly, and she raised her hand to her mouth, her tongue peeking out from between her lips.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, his hand clamping down on her wrist so hard she couldn't move. He could feel the creak of her bones under his fingers, and he knew if he pressed any harder he could snap them.

Her voice was throaty and sultry when she spoke, he could practically feel her tongue tasting and caressing the words as she spoke. "I'm going to taste you, Edward, lick you from my hands and take you inside me."

"Did I say you could?" He asked with a snarl that curled his upper lip.

He felt her widen her stance, the fire in her eyes flaring hot and fierce. "I don't need your permission, Edward. I take what I want."

He growled low in his chest and felt her growl back; the sounds blending until they hit a perfect harmony that made the air around them vibrate. Defiantly, despite the ache that had to be forming in her wrist, she brought her hand to her lips. It pulled him nearer to her, their faces so close he could feel the air as it left her lips and her growl faded.

Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily as her tongue touched her skin and the expression of ecstasy that crossed her face made him painfully hard again. He dimly realized his cock was still hanging out of his pants, but he could focus on nothing but the sight of her lapping up his come as if it were a delicacy.

Her eyes met his again as her tongue moved delicately over her hand. He could hear the rasp of it against her skin, like the sound of a cat grooming. She shuddered, and he smelled the sultry heat of her arousal. He could nearly taste it in the air, and it took all of his willpower not to throw her to the ground and bury his head between her thighs.

With their gazes still locked, Bella finished licking her right hand and brought the left one to her mouth. He had no reason not to let go of her wrist, but he couldn't tear himself away. He had to touch her as she teasingly, torturously, licked his come off her skin. She shuddered again as she took each finger of her hand, sucking it into her mouth like it was his cock, with a swirl of her tongue to the tip that made him ache.

Her head fell back, soft shudders wracking her body, and he found himself gripping both her wrists in his hands, their arms splayed low and to the sides. She moved like a woman in the throes of an orgasm, her expressed ecstatic and pained all at once. The groan that left her resonated in him and lodged somewhere deep in his chest.

"You're inside me now," she said when she finally stilled and lifted her head. It wasn't defiant or combative. There was no smugness in her tone, just a soft, joyous lilt that matched the contentment in her eyes. "You are mine."

Bella emitted a blissful purring noise. He could almost picture her as a large, sated cat, rubbing up against him in satisfaction.

"No!" he snarled viciously. "I will never be yours."

He flung her arms away from him in disgust, hastily tucking his cock back in his pants and spinning on his heel. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, orienting himself, and then took off in the direction of the car. They had run for hundreds of miles, and yet he would have no trouble making it back.

Bella followed after him, her feet nearly silent on the ground despite the noisy, crinkling leaves, and crackling branches. She sounded neither meek nor hurt by his statement when she finally spoke. "You will be Edward. Lie to yourself as long as you must, but you are mine. My mate, my life, my everything."

He snarled and ran faster, but the light footsteps never faltered, never faded as she ran behind him in the cold, moonlit night.

* * *

**Notes:** This is one of my favorite chapters and I hope you enjoyed it. After the evil cliffie in the last chapter, I thought you'd appreciate Edward getting some. Hope you liked seeing E&B get out of the city and act a bit more like vamps!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes: **Thanks to my betas, ContentedTwiCow, Sunflower Fanfiction, Jules, and AshesAshes.

If you're celebrating, I hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The ride back to Manhattan was nearly silent except for the growl of the Exige's engine. Only this time, there was no rush of excitement from being in the exotic car. He'd offered to drive, but she'd given him a scathing look that made him regret even asking. Bella's driving was just as aggressive this time, but there was something different about the way she handled the car. Her movements were no longer fluid and joyous, but tight and controlled. Edward glanced over at her once and then away, unable even to look at her without seeing her lapping his come from her hands.

There was something intensely arousing about the need she had for him. It frustrated him, set him on edge, but at the same time, it made him feel powerful in a way he had never experienced before. In his human life, sex had been a means to an end; a way of satisfying a need that built up in his body. He always made sure it was pleasurable for both he and his partner, but ultimately, for him, it had been forgettable. Even before he was changed, he couldn't have rattled off the names of half the women he'd fucked—blondes, brunettes, redheads … they all blended together. They were ubiquitous; hair color, skin color, race, height, none of that really mattered, although, all of the women were fit and attractive. He was certainly a snob in that regard. None of them stood out though, none had gotten under his skin and made him feel like his bones would melt just from thinking about her.

Until, Bella.

Edward supposed part of that was the supernatural aspect, but he was still having trouble wrapping his brain around the fact that he was different now. His brain kept thinking he'd wake up and go back to the life he'd led before. Even after tonight, where he'd run, feeling like a god, he still expected to open his eyes and see the familiar sights of his apartment. He expected to wake up in a hospital and find out he'd been delirious from fever. It wasn't quite _real_ yet.

And yet, everything tonight had seemed so right. Running and using his new body felt good. In some ways, it felt more real than when he'd been slogging through endless days as an investment banker.

Touching Bella had felt more real than anything he'd ever done in his life. The fantasies were unceasing now. An endless cycle of images paraded through his mind; Bella sucking his cock; Bella, on her hands and knees as he fucked her from behind; Edward's head between her narrow thighs. They wouldn't stop, repeating over and over until he thought he'd go mad from them.

He rubbed at his head, almost wishing for an actual headache, rather than this strange phantom feeling of frustration. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest. He felt a hand hovering just over his arm, his skin prickling with sensation at the near-touch, the tiny hairs on his arm rising. "Don't," he growled, and the hand retreated. For the rest of the drive back, she didn't move to touch him again.

Even with his eyes closed, Edward knew when they reached Manhattan, and he opened them as they slid into the parking spot marked with her apartment number.

He followed her up to her place, once again desperately wishing he could just sleep. _What am I supposed to do to fill the hours?_ He wondered. He quickly thought of something very pleasurable he could do with Bella, and then was immediately disgusted with himself.

It made him snarl at her when she cut him off to slide the key in the lock and let them into her place. Rather than get annoyed, she merely rolled her eyes at him and pushed her way inside. "Feel free to find ways to entertain yourself," she said. "There are books and a television. My laptop is on the desk in the library, you may use it. I'm going to bed."

"I thought we didn't sleep," he snarled.

"We don't." She looked away, her eyes lowered in an expression he would almost say was bashful. "I … I like to just go to bed, close my eyes and pretend. It's comforting."

"Right," he replied, incredulous at the thought.

She looked coyly up at him through her lashes. "You can join me if you want."

"No thanks," he said tersely.

But he watched as she sauntered down the hall to the bedroom, her hips swaying enticingly. His body ached for her, and he hated himself for it.

**~Dreaming~**

Edward did manage to find a way to kill the time between when they returned to the apartment and when Bella finally emerged from the bedroom. He took advantage of Bella's offer to use her laptop and he Googled himself. He was interested in seeing if there was any more information about his case. It was strange, he knew what had happened, so it didn't actually matter _what_ the police thought. But he found himself morbidly curious about his disappearance.

What he found only depressed him. There was no real investigation. No one cared. His death had been a small blurb days before in several newspapers, relegated to pages that no one ever read. He had already been forgotten.

He didn't know why he was surprised by it. He was an orphan because of a twist of fate involving an icy road and a truck going too fast, but he had become a loner by choice. He had deliberately pushed away everyone who had ever tried to get close to him. His boss was probably the one who missed him most, and that was only because he put in the longest hours, and was best at his job. It was nothing personal.

Hell, his cleaning lady knew more about him than anyone else, and only because he paid her. He sat back in the chair, swallowing down the sick feeling of melancholy that washed over him. Before this, his solitary life hadn't bothered him once. But in this quasi-death, it made him regretful. If he'd actually died, and there had been a body, there would have been no one to claim it.

Edward felt sick as he Googled 'what happens to unclaimed bodies in NYC'. The answers were simple. He'd have been kept in a morgue for ninety days and then, if unclaimed, either donated to a medical school for research and then cremated, or buried in Potter's Field. It was a sobering thought.

He would have had no one to claim is body, no one to mourn him, no one to stand by his grave.

Edward remembered his flippant thoughts about making a beautiful corpse. He could suddenly see that beautiful corpse on a metal slab in the morgue, naked and un-mourned. He pictured cold, clinical hands washing and examining him; faceless, impartial, medical students cutting into him, dissecting him as if he was no more than a hunk of beef. His beauty ruined and pointless. He imagined his mutilated corpse being shoved into a furnace, to burn to ash, or dumped into a grave, with no one to mourn him, no one to even notice that he was gone.

He shuddered, feeling chilled all the way through. However, he knew that was impossible. He was impervious to temperature now. _But not to emotions,_ he reminded himself. No matter how hard he tried to be indifferent, the image of his death shook him.

Suddenly, he wished he had taken Bella up on her offer to crawl into bed and pretend to sleep with her. Now his over-active imagination went down another path. He could feel the soft comfort of a mattress, the weight of the bedding over them, the whisper of silky fabric against their bare skin. He could imagine the way her lithe body would wrap around him, her narrow but strong arms encircling him. Her scent filled his nostrils and his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned back in the chair. Edward could almost feel the slight weight of her as she rested against him, her touch gentle as she traced patterns on his bare chest with her fingertips.

Edward growled low in his chest at the thought. For a moment, he wanted that so badly he could nearly taste it. He pulled himself together and closed out of the results of his morbid search. He had no idea why he was being so fanciful and melancholy, but it was getting ridiculous. He wasn't dead. To the world, he was missing—presumed dead—but, in fact, he had endless lifetimes stretching out before him to do anything he pleased.

So rather than dwell on the past, he brought up a new search, this time typing in one word: vampires.

For the most part, Edward was disgusted by what he found. It was all hokey nonsense from writers with vivid—if inaccurate—imaginations, Hollywood visions, and information so far removed from the truth he had no idea _where_ it came from. In scholarly articles about myths and legends, he found a few, small facts that seemed to fit with what he knew. But none of them gave a satisfactory explanation about where vampires came from originally. None of them offered him a how-to manual for surviving as a vampire. And none told him a damn thing about this soul mate business Bella kept talking about. On that, they were silent. Sure, there were books and movies describing vampires finding love, but there was no discussion of why. Or an explanation about the type of bond Bella described. The information he found described a very human type of emotion, when what Bella hinted at felt more powerful and _far_ more animalistic.

As he searched through page after page, he began to wonder. Had she made it all up? Was this idea of mated pairs something she had lied to him about just to keep him around?

Or maybe she was just insane, Edward mused. He'd noticed how strangely erratic and changeable her moods were with the way she seemed to flash from one emotion to the next. Then again, he had to admit he often felt volatile; the slightest word or thought triggering a reaction. Maybe that's just the way vampires were.

Edward was still suspicious, though, about the lack of any kind of information regarding vampire soul mates. He couldn't decide if the thought of her lying to him about something like that made him more angry or nauseous. He supposed she was lonely, but that was no excuse. The idea of her trying to trick him into staying with her, and making up a bullshit story about them being fated to be together was repugnant. Years ago, Edward might have believed that he'd find love. But his parents had died, and he'd made the choice to cut himself off from the world. _It's better that way_, he thought grimly. No attachments meant less risk of pain. If he didn't love, he couldn't lose. It was as simple as that.

**~Dreaming~**

The sun had long been up by the time Bella emerged from the bedroom. Edward heard the quiet snick of the door as it opened, smelled a rush of her scent, and felt the subtle vibrations in the floor as her light footsteps led her into the library. He had long since abandoned his search for information on vampires and was just sitting, staring out the high, narrow windows at the city. He turned in his chair as she slipped into the room and gracefully hopped up on the desk. She was dressed in satin again, this time a robe, and it was a pale blush color, just a few shades darker than her skin. She had showered again, he noticed idly, and her hair lay damp across the fabric. The water was spreading, darkening the fabric and making it nearly transparent.

His eyes were transfixed by the sight of the shimmering droplets beaded up on her skin. They were on her throat, along her collarbone, in the v of the edge of the robe as it dipped down, just barely covering her breasts. Her long, slender legs glistened, and he couldn't tear his eyes from them as they crossed, offering him a teasing glimpse of her thighs, and the shadowed place between. The place he'd been before. The place he hated himself for wanting to be again.

"How was your nap?" he asked, the sarcasm in his voice clear. He thought her idea of resting was idiotic; the idea of a vampire pretending to sleep was utterly ridiculous. Although a small part of him still wondered what it would have felt like to crawl in beside her.

Bella smiled, her lips turning up at the corners. "Restful. I'm not sure it would have been quite so _relaxing_ if you'd joined me. But I might be more … satisfied."

She leaned back, resting her palms on the desk behind her. It parted the robe at the top and bottom, showing him more of her thighs and the inner curve of her breasts. A section of hair slid over her shoulder, revealing the damp, see-through fabric below. Her nipple showed below it, tight and puckered, the fabric so sheer he could see the tiny bumps in the skin, the darker, rosier coloring visible.

Edward tried not to shift in his seat as arousal consumed him. It was hot and hungry, incinerating the slow, simmering anger he felt toward her. He wanted to lean forward, lick a wet trail up her legs, taste the water on her skin, and then bury his head between her thighs until she screamed his name and called him a god.

"What did you occupy yourself with?" she asked, pulling him from the haze of need he was in. "Did you find the stash of naughty pictures of me on my laptop?" He jerked, startled, and she laughed throatily. "I'm kidding. Trust me, I would have known if you'd found it."

Edward scowled, suspecting she was just teasing him about the pictures even existing. "I searched for information about my disappearance."

"And what did you find?"

"Nothing," he muttered, feeling petulant.

Her voice softened. "What did you expect to find?"

"It doesn't matter."

"That's all you did?" she asked, tilting her head to the side to look at him.

"Why? Are you checking up on me?" he snapped.

"No, no, of course not, Edward," she said soothingly. "I just want to get to know you."

"I looked up information about vampires."

"I told you I would tell you everything I know."

"That's the problem," he hissed. "You know nothing. You have these little bits and pieces, but nothing concrete."

She nodded, looking remorseful. "I'm sorry. I wish I had more answers. I can take you to someone who does though."

"When?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Take a shower, and I'll call him."

He glanced down, about to protest that he didn't need a shower, when he realized he did. He was streaked with dirt and tiny leaf particles. He hadn't been aware of it, but their run through the forest had left him filthy. Actually, it was when he tackled Bella to the ground. Most of his torso and part of his legs were clean, where her body had been pinned between him and the earth.

Bella grinned teasingly as if she knew where his train of thought had gone. She leaned forward, and he struggled to keep his eyes from drifting to the neckline of her robe where it gaped open. Her voice was a low, seductive purr when she spoke. "You like to get _filthy_, don't you?"

Edward managed to ignore Bella's innuendo laden comment, and left the library for the bathroom. He showered quickly, avoiding touching his cock, although it ached for release. The events from the night before swirled through his mind, the tension between them over the past few days tormenting him. But he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of hearing him jerk off.

He left the bathroom and dressed, slipping on a pair of grey trousers and a crisp white shirt. He grudgingly had to admit that the wardrobe Bella had stocked for him was well-made and perfectly tailored. Clearly she'd stock-piled them, assuming he was going to be changed into a vampire and move in with her. If only it hadn't been so presumptuous of her to assume he'd need the clothes, he might have enjoyed them. The fabric was expensive, and he once again found himself wondering what on earth she'd meant about her investments paying for everything. How she could afford the kind of lifestyle she lived was beyond him.

He realized he knew next to nothing about her. He didn't genuinely _want_ to know her, at least -not on a personal level, but the mystery didn't exactly help. How could he believe anything she had to say if he didn't know anything about her?

As he walked out the door, he glanced at himself in one of the many mirrors lining the walls of Bella's bedroom. As much as he hated this thing he'd become, he was just vain enough to feel good about the physical changes.

He looked _good_.

Bella was dressed and sitting in the living room when he emerged from the bedroom. "I spoke to Emmett," she said.

"Emmett?"

She smiled fondly. "He's the vampire I go to for everything I need."

Edward's nostrils flared, and he bristled at the image that popped into his head: a faceless vampire fucking Bella as she cried out in pleasure.

"Well, _almost_ everything," Bella purred.

"And this Emmett will have answers for me?" he asked coldly, annoyed by the momentary flash of jealousy and the fact that she knew he was jealous.

She nodded. "And we can talk to him about getting access to your personal belongings, and eventually some of your money."

"Good," Edward said tightly. "Let's go."

This time, Bella drove a luxurious, black Mercedes S-Class. The Exige had been fun, but it was a track car, made for high speeds and performance. There was a great deal of power in the Mercedes as well, but it was meant for luxury, with a smooth, whisper-quiet ride. Neither of them spoke on the drive through Manhattan. It was morning rush hour, yet Bella navigated traffic effortlessly as if she was the only one on the road.

Emmett lived in a large loft not far from the one Edward woke up in, only his was finished. Edward didn't know what he expected from what little Bella had said about the other vampire they were meeting, but when he opened the door, the large, dark-haired man wasn't it.

He was a few inches taller than Edward and much broader, his body reminding Edward of one of the statues of Greek athletes.

A warrior.

A gladiator.

He was cool and serious when he greeted Edward, his amber eyes appraising. But he softened when he turned to Bella, and she went into his arms as though she'd known him for years. Then again, for all Edward knew, maybe she had. Maybe they'd been lovers.

Edward caught a brief glimpse of dimples on the dark-haired man's face as he hugged Bella, and it took everything in him not to rip Emmett's head right off. He was sickened to realize how irrationally jealous he was of the man.

He forced down a growl but didn't think he was fooling anyone. He rolled his shoulders, willing his body to calm. Emmett let go of Bella, but his eyes met Edward's in a challenging stare, even though it was clear he was speaking to her. "I see your mate is rather possessive," Emmett said, stepping back to allow them to into the loft.

"I'm not her mate," Edward spat out.

Emmett's brow wrinkled and he glanced down at the woman standing next to him. She looked up at Emmett, her eyes sad and haunted looking. "It's a long story," she whispered hoarsely.

"Give me the basics," Emmett prompted, leading them into the large interior of the apartment. It was a stark contrast to Bella's place. There were no soft colors, or lines. Everything was stark and aggressively masculine and suited the man who owned the place.

Bella's voice was flat and expressionless. "I changed Edward, and now he hates me for it."

Emmett's eyes flicked to Edward and then back to Bella. "Well, that's … unusual."

All of a sudden, Edward became aware of another vampire in the room, a woman who was lounging on the black, leather sofa. She made no move to get up, merely waggled her fingers at them disinterestedly and looked away.

She was blonde and statuesque, with classically beautiful features. Emmett nodded at her. "That's my mate, Rosalie."

_So_, Edward thought_, mates do exist. At least Bella isn't making that up. _Either that or they were both as delusional as Bella.

The larger man turned to Edward. "I hear you have some questions about vampires, and you'd like access to your money and property."

"Yes."

"I … I have some things I'd like to talk to you about as well, Emmett," Bella said.

He nodded seriously, his eyes flicking over Edward as if assessing him.

"Let's take a walk, Bella. I think Edward and Rosalie can keep themselves occupied for a little bit."

Bella nodded, and before Edward could even blink, she and Emmett were out the door. He stood staring after them, rather discomfited by the abrupt departure. And he wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of Bella leaving with a man—vampire—he corrected himself that he didn't know or trust.

"I can practically see the wheels turning in your head. You think they've fucked."

"To whom are you referring?" Edward asked coldly, looking over his shoulder at Rosalie.

"Emmett and your Bella."

"She's _not_ my Bella."

"Whatever." She waved a hand dismissively and continued on like he hadn't even spoken. "They haven't, you know."

"Why should I care?" Edward asked as he turned to face her, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. He cursed himself when he realized he did, in fact, care. The idea of the other vampire fucking Bella made him furious.

"You're jealous," she said, with an infuriating smile that curled the corners of her lips up.

"No, I'm not," Edward argued, but she only smiled the infuriating little smile again.

Though Bella and Emmett had wandered a considerable distance away, Edward could hear their conversation clearly. He hadn't even been conscious of it, but he'd kept a part of his awareness on them and when Bella finally spoke, he focused on it.

"He doesn't want me, Emmett." Her voice sounded broken and sad again.

"Did you change him without his consent?" Emmett asked.

Her voice sounded unusually young when she replied. "I … I guess so. I didn't mean to. I thought he wanted it. I thought he wanted to be with me."

"You have a tendency to be impatient, Bella. You leap without thinking, without taking the time to be sure it's right."

"He's my _mate_, Emmett. I'm sure of it. You _know_ how many years I've been looking for him."

"Are you one hundred percent sure that he is your mate?" Emmett asked mildly.

"Yes. The smell of him, the taste of his blood, even the way his arms feel around me are so right. I _know_ he's mine."

Emmett sighed. "You know that sometimes the mate bond gets … skewed. That sometimes one feels it, and the other doesn't, or denies it."

"Yes, I know," she snapped.

"You remember what it was like with—"

Bella cut him off, her voice harsh. "I remember. Don't bring them up."

Edward wondered to himself who they were talking about. Just one more mystery when it came to Bella … what _was_ her last name? Jesus, she'd changed him into a supernatural being and told him she was in love with him, and yet he didn't even know her fucking name. This situation was utterly ridiculous.

Bella and Emmett's voices had begun to fade, and all he heard was a final question as they moved out of range. "What do I _do_, Emmett?"

He heard a low, throaty chuckle from the blonde across the room and returned his focus to her. "You really got yourself into one hell of a mess. That girl's stubborn, she's not just going to give up and let you walk away."

"Once I know what the fuck I'm doing, I'll leave, whether she wants me to or not," he snarled.

"I'm sure you know the phrase _the female of the species is more deadly than the male_? Well in the case of vampires, it's often true." Rosalie bared her teeth at Edward. It should have looked ridiculous, but Edward felt a cold little shiver skitter down his spine, although he tried to hide it. He didn't think he was successful. "Don't for one minute, _ever_, underestimate a female vampire. Bella's softer than many of us, but don't discount her. And don't think that she wouldn't do _anything_ to keep you. A vampire will move heaven and earth to find their mate, and even more than that to keep them. A female vampire feeling like her mate could be taken away from her is the most deadly creature on earth."

"What do you mean about Bella being softer?" he asked curiously.

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "She has these moral hang-ups about killing humans—" Rosalie waved her hand dismissively— "she had this _thing_ happen in her past, and she's all weird about it."

"Well, she didn't have any qualms about changing me without my consent," Edward snarled. "She obviously doesn't have that many moral qualms."

Rosalie only laughed throatily and shrugged. "One thing we have in common then."

Edward leaned back against the concrete pillar behind him, wondering what Rosalie had meant about what happened in Bella's past, but equally curious about the other statement she'd made. "You changed Emmett?" he asked.

"Oh yes."

He raised an eyebrow at her in disbelief. "And he wasn't angry with you for it?"

Rosalie unfolded herself from the couch and stood up fluidly. In her towering stiletto heels, she was as tall as he was. "You think any man could resist this?" She gave him an equally disbelieving look, and swept a hand up and down her curves, indicating her body.

Edward looked her over and shrugged. "I could."

She chuckled throatily. "Yes, but I'm not your mate."

"Well, despite Bella's assertions, she and I aren't mates."

"So you say." Rosalie shrugged. "Maybe Bella just isn't as irresistible as I was."

Edward found himself bristling. "Or maybe Emmett was just easy."

Before he could blink, Edward found himself pinned against the pillar, two extraordinarily, strong fingers digging into his throat and Rosalie's snarling face just inches from his. "Don't you dare speak of him that way. You know _nothing_ about vampire mating."

"Then tell me," he roared. "I'm fucking tired of this secrecy, of all the hints about what it's like to be a goddamn vampire."

"Get the hell away from him," Bella snarled from across the room. Edward jumped; he hadn't even realized she was back.

He felt the fingers leave his throat, and he snarled as Rosalie pulled away. She hissed back at him, and he saw Emmett's hands clamped on her upper arms, tugging her backwards. "Easy, Tiger," he said.

Rosalie let out a low sound that made his hair stand on end. It was throaty, a growling purr that he could feel in his own chest. She turned in Emmett's arms, sidling up to him like a large cat. "You like it when I get rough."

"With me, yes. But not with our guests." Emmett's large hand slid down her back, soundly cupping her ass. She laughed and her earlier rage seemed forgotten as she moved against him, stretching up to kiss him deeply. There was something unbelievably sensual about watching them together, and he felt himself fascinated by it, maybe even turned on by it.

Unable to watch another couple grope each other in front of him any longer, he interrupted. He didn't think he could take any more without completely snapping. "Will someone please just fucking tell me more about being a vampire?" he asked coldly.

"I need information _now_."

* * *

**Notes:** Emmett and Rosalie have arrived! What do you think?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes: **As always, thanks to my betas, ContentedTwiCow, Sunflower Fanfiction, Jules, and AshesAshes. I couldn't do this without you!

Of the chapters I have written (14 so far) this is my very favorite.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

After Edward's outburst, Rosalie and Emmett broke apart. Although, when they took a seat on the couch, his large hand settled on the back of Rose's neck. Edward was in the chair across from them, and Bella perched on the arm of it.

Emmett took charge of the conversation. "What is it you want to know, Edward?"

Edward forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "I just want to understand what I am now, and what it means to be a vampire."

Emmett nodded. "It can be overwhelming to wake up as a vampire, especially if it's unexpected."

Edward laughed hollowly. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Let me tell you what I know; afterward, you're free to ask any questions you have."

Edward nodded and sat back in his seat, his elbow brushing Bella's hip. They both flinched, although he suspected it was for different reasons.

"As far as anyone has been able to ascertain, vampires have been around nearly as long as humans. Humans—in their modern form—appeared roughly 200,000 years ago. Some time after that, another species began to emerge. Much like the vampire bat, mosquito, or tick, that species survived off blood. In this case, human blood."

"But how did that happen?" Edward asked. "How did it come to be in the first place?"

Emmett shrugged. "I believe the current theory is that some caveman somewhere had a small mutation in his DNA. He reproduced and passed that on. As the generations continued, the offspring began to live longer and drink blood to survive."

"Huh," Edward said thoughtfully. That explanation made more sense than any he had ever considered.

"I know we seem like magical creatures, but we really aren't. We just have better adaptations. Vampires probably began by drinking animal blood, but eventually humans became our prey. We are able to drink from humans without killing them and remove their memory of the event. We can choose to kill humans or not, and there are merits to both approaches. The advantage of killing animals is that you don't have to remove their memory or worry about how much blood you take. The downside of killing humans, of course, is that you have to find a way to dispose of the body, and too many unexplained deaths in one area can be problematic. It can arouse suspicion, so the upside of not killing is, of course, that it makes it much easier to avoid investigation from authorities. Some vampires—like Bella here—prefer to drink without killing. I, myself, am indifferent. Generally speaking, I don't kill, but sometimes it can be thrilling; especially if you're feeding with your mate."

"How did Bella change me?" Edward asked. "She bit me once, left a scar but no memories, and then she bit me again, and I changed."

"You drank from her, yes?" Emmett asked, and Edward nodded, remembering his lips against her smooth, white throat.

"That's the only way you can become a vampire, you have to be bitten and drained, and then feed from the vampire who bit you."

"The … substance in our veins—I know it isn't blood, but what is it?" Edward asked. "Bella just called it quicksilver."

Emmett nodded. "That is one name for it. It's a slightly old-fashioned one. As far as what it's made up of, I can't give you the exact chemical breakdown. It goes by several names, although _aevum_ and _animus_ are the most common. They come from the Latin words for life or spirit."

"Huh," Edward said again, rather fascinated by all of the information Emmett was giving him. "Do you know how it works scientifically? How it changes someone from human to vampire?"

Emmett shook his head. "I'm sorry; I don't. I would assume that the _aevum_ changes the human body on the cellular level, mutating the DNA."

"There doesn't seem to be any written history on any of this," Edward said, frustrated. "None that I could find, anyway."

"Things like that are kept quite secret; the majority of our history is passed on orally, and even then it isn't talked about much," Emmett explained. "Vampire strength developed more slowly than the urge for blood, and for a while, we were quite vulnerable to humans. We hid our history to protect ourselves."

"Is there anyone who knows the entire history?" Edward asked. Bella and Emmett exchanged significant glances. Edward sighed in frustration at the weird secrecy between them.

After a moment, Emmett nodded. "There are a few."

More questions whirled through Edward's brain, and he changed the subject. "Can you at least explain this mating thing to me, because frankly, I don't understand it at all."

Emmett and Rosalie exchanged glances, and Edward heard Bella huff in annoyance.

"As I'm sure you've noticed, vampires can be extremely … volatile," Emmett said, and Edward nodded his agreement. "Our emotions are extremely close to the surface, and we're easily riled. We are predators, make no mistake about that. We hunt, we kill, and we defend our territory when necessary. With too much aggression, we could wipe ourselves out as a species, or wipe out our food source. The mating instinct appears to have evolved to balance that. A mated vampire is more stable than an unmated one. He's less likely to become so aggressive that he kills others of his kind. He's also better able to blend into human society. On the flip side, he also creates a new vampire when he meets his mate as a human. Actually, there seem to be more female vampires who find human mates than male, but that certainly isn't always the case."

"What about gay vampires?"

Emmett's lips twitched in amusement, but he nodded. "Yes, it's about the same percentage of the vampire population as in humans."

"The word _mate_ implies … procreation. There aren't creepy little vampire children running around, are there?" Edward asked in disgust. The other three vampires chuckled.

Emmett shook his head, "No, we absolutely cannot reproduce. The _aevum_, or quicksilver, as Bella calls it, strengthens our bodies and makes us nearly impervious. But it also makes us sterile, unable to create life or sustain it. I think the theory is that the adaptation that allows us to change a human came about because we couldn't reproduce otherwise."

Edward nodded, very glad to hear that. The thought of vampire children was … disturbing to him. "So, evolution paired off vampires to keep them calm then?" he asked, wanting to understand more about the mating process.

"Essentially."

"I don't understand how we're supposed to know who our mate is," Edward said. "It all sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me. Bella kept talking about my smell and how I'm supposed to just know we belong together."

"As I'm sure you've noticed, our senses are highly acute—far more acute than those of humans. Trust those senses, Edward. I'm sure you've smelled other human women since you were changed, and now you've been around another vampire woman, as well," Emmett said, indicating his mate, Rosalie. "Do any of them smell like Bella?"

He shook his head no.

"I understand you're angry with her for changing you, but isn't there a part of you that finds her … appealing?" Edward grudgingly indicated that there was, and Emmett continued. "That's your body's way of telling you that you are mates."

"But how do I know that there isn't someone else _more_ appealing to me?" He asked, irritated by the discussion, even though he'd been the one to start it. "Maybe I'll walk by a human tomorrow, and she'll smell twice as good as Bella."

Bella snarled, her head whipping around to look at him. "Bella," Emmett said, the warning in his voice was clear. She settled down, but not before giving him a sulky look.

"It's not impossible, I suppose. But Bella isn't lying to you. She recognizes you as her mate, and I think if you would learn to trust your instincts, you'd see that it's true. I suspect you're too much in your head, too cerebral, too human still. You need to let your animal side out."

"What if I don't want to?" Edward argued. "I don't _want_ to be mated to Bella."

Edward felt Bella's body tensing next to him. He glanced over at her and saw her shoulders had drawn in, and she was lightly shaking. He felt a strange twinge of regret when he saw silvery tears trailing down her face.

Bella abruptly stood and disappeared out the wide doors that seemed to lead out to a balcony. Although she didn't slam the door, it had the same effect, and the room seemed chilly all of a sudden. "Or mated to anyone else for that matter," Edward added, almost as an afterthought.

Emmett sighed and frowned after her. "Bella said you haven't gone through the claiming ritual yet."

"I don't really understand what she means by that," Edward said. Rosalie rolled her eyes and got up as well, disappearing into a room at the back of the loft. Clearly, she was done with the conversation.

"Typically, when a vampire turns a human that they are mates with, there's an instinctive ritual they go through. For example, when you awoke, the hunger for blood was strong, right?"

Edward shrugged. "I suppose. It wasn't unmanageable though. Frankly, I was too pissed about being changed to notice."

"Well, ordinarily, you would have immediately wanted to drink blood. Once you did, your next urge would be to claim Bella as your mate. You would have shared the blood you drank, and then fucked her. After that, you would have performed the final part of the ritual. Some vampires just bite each other and exchange the _aevum _that way. Many others make it far more ritualistic. Sort of like a hand fasting, or a wedding. In that case, they usually slice open their palms and mingle their blood, exchanging a few words and promising to bind themselves together for eternity."

Edward laughed, relieved. "So, it's just a symbolic ritual then."

Emmett's mouth turned down at the corners, and his voice was somber. "Don't think for a moment it's something to be done on a whim or in vain, Edward. We do not perform it lightly."

Edward scoffed. "So what if I went through this stupid little ritual with Bella and then decided to walk away? What's the worst that could happen?"

Emmett's expression darkened. "It wouldn't be pretty," he said grimly. "Bella would be bonded to you at that point."

"Isn't that already what's happened?" Edward asked.

"No," Emmett said firmly. "Not even close. You're hesitant, and it's certainly hurting Bella at the moment, but she's tough. She can survive your rejection now, but if you performed the ritual, Bella would be physically connected to you. If you rejected her then, she probably wouldn't survive it … not mentally anyway. For that matter, neither would you. The ritual would have bonded you together. You might be strong enough and stubborn enough to walk away from her … to fight that connection. But the longer and harder you fought it, the more it would tear you apart not to be with her. You'd both go mad."

"How is it any worse than some human breaking up or getting divorced?" Edward asked.

"Because we're not talking about little human emotions, Edward," he snarled. "This isn't promising to love someone 'til death do you part, or until you get bored with them. That's fifty … sixty years at the most maybe. A marriage is something that can be undone with a signature and the decree of a judge. Yeah, it hurts a human to lose the person they love, but this is something entirely different."

"But _why_?" Edward asked in frustration, trying to wrap his brain around everything. None of it made any sense to him.

"Once again, I can't actually _explain_ the biology of it, but essentially, mingling blood does change both the vampires on a cellular level. They are bound together."

"Okay …" Edward said, still puzzled.

"Even more than that is the emotional connection. It's _intense_, Edward. It's a promise meant to last for eternity. If you were killed by another vampire, Bella would die, too."

"She'd just drop dead, like that?"

"No, but she'd lose the will to live." Edward gave the other vampire a look of disbelief, but Emmett merely shook his head. "You scoff, but it happens. There is no such concept as finding a mate twice in your life. If you lose the one you're meant to be with, there's no reason to go on. If you went through the ritual with her and walked away, it would kill you both."

Edward frowned and changed the subject, uncomfortable with Emmett's vehemence about vampire mates. "Earlier you said something to Bella about it happening before—mating going wrong I mean—what did you mean by that?"

The other vampire scowled. "That's not my story to tell. Bella has a complicated past. She's strong, but she's been through a lot. Being rejected by her mate would be more than she could handle. That's the dark side of vampire mating, when it goes wrong, it leads to madness."

Edward would have scoffed at the idea, but there was something so grave in Emmett's gaze and tone that he didn't dare patronize him. "What do you mean by go mad?"

"Most likely, lose all of her control. She'd go into a frenzy, killing as many humans as she could before one of us took her out, put her out of her misery. When vampire mating goes wrong, it's gruesome. We self-destruct. The same happens when we lose our mate."

Edward shuddered. "Are there laws for us? Are there vampires who enforce them?"

"No. Just a set of behaviors we all generally follow. If another vampire gets out of control, we take care of it. No one has appointed themselves as ruler. There are no judges, or vampire police. We take care of our own. I myself have taken out a mad vampire once or twice in my years. It's unfortunate but necessary for everyone's sake."

"This is all way more complicated than I know how to handle. I just … never wanted any of this."

The dark haired vampire nodded; his expression was solemn and a little sympathetic. "I know. And to a certain extent, I do understand it. Rosalie didn't ask me before she changed me, and it was shocking at first."

"How long did it take for you to claim each other?"

Emmett scoffed. "As soon as the human blood touched my lips I knew I had to be inside her and make her mine. You're an anomaly, Edward. It's rare for a vampire to resist like this."

He nodded, frowning, his head whirling with thoughts about everything he'd learned today.

"Can I offer you one piece of advice?" Emmett asked.

"Sure."

"Ask Bella about her past. You need to know what she's been through."

Edward made a non-committal sound of agreement and changed the subject completely. "Bella told me you could get me access to my property and money."

Emmett nodded. "It'll take a little time. We'll watch the building, and see if the landlord decides to sell it or donate it to charity. Either way, I can arrange to purchase it using several false accounts. There won't be any trail connecting it to you, so the police won't be suspicious. If you want it all, that can be arranged, if not, give me a list of what you do want."

"I'll get you the list," Edward said.

"The money will take longer," Emmett said. "It would be suspicious if it just disappeared; the police certainly have your accounts flagged for activity. The easiest way to gain access is for a relative of yours to appear with a legitimate claim to your estate."

Edward frowned. "But there's no one."

Emmett shrugged. "That's not important. I can create a fake identity. I do it all the time."

"You're a forger? Like I.D. cards and passports?" Edward asked.

Emmett leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. He gave Edward a half-smile and nodded. "Among other things. I'm a hacker and a general jack of all trades. I'm very good at what I do."

Edward nodded, rather liking the serious, dark-haired vampire now that he was getting to know him. "Can I ask an odd question?" he said impulsively.

"Sure."

"How old are you? I mean, how long have you been a vampire?"

"I was turned in 1834," Emmett said, and Edward blinked in surprise. He'd thought Bella was old.

"And Rosalie?"

The other vampire chided him, "Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady's age?" But he smiled anyway and answered. "She was turned in 1789."

"Huh," Edward replied. "How long have you known Bella?"

"We met in 1919. But if you want the story there, you'll have to ask Bella."

"Right," Edward said with a sigh. "I need to know her history."

Emmett nodded. "For both your sakes, it would be best."

Shortly after their conversation wrapped up, Bella returned to the room. She was calm and composed, and nothing indicated that she'd been in tears just a short while before. Emmett gave Edward a cell phone before he left. Of course, other than Emmett, Rosalie, and Bella, he had no one he could call. But it still felt comforting when he slipped it into his pocket—familiar somehow. Maybe it was just that it was a vestige of his humanity, but Edward liked knowing he had it, just in case.

In case of what, he didn't know.

Bella didn't speak once on the drive back to the apartment. There was nothing fierce about her; she seemed wilted almost, soft and fragile. He remembered Emmett's words about her past, but he couldn't quite bring himself to ask her about it.

He watched her as they rode the elevator up to her floor, but she never once glanced at him.

**~Dreaming~**

They spent the next few days in near silence, with only the occasional word between them. Edward's mind was full, working overtime to process everything he'd learned from Emmett. It was comforting, having that knowledge. It made him less anxious, and he felt more in control. Bella was so silent, so still, he hardly knew what to make of her. For a moment, he wondered if this was the madness Emmett had talked about, but her behavior seemed to be the opposite of madness. There was no frenzy, no wild self-destruction—only endless stillness and silence.

Edward had never been particularly good at keeping still. He was a restless person, accustomed to working ten, twelve hour days at minimum, and even more when the work called for it. He had no job now, no purpose. Grim thoughts passed through his head that if he were fucking Bella, it would give him some way to spend his time, but a career as a mated vampire wouldn't exactly give him job satisfaction or fulfillment. Sexual fulfillment? Yes. He had no doubts that giving in to her would give him enormous satisfaction in that regard, but it still wasn't a purpose.

He didn't know how to broach the subject with Bella, and she hardly seemed to be talking anyway, so he spent his time searching for more information on vampires. He didn't have a science background, but his intelligence had always been above average, and he found that his aptitude for learning had only grown with the change. It wasn't that he was smarter, but it was easier to hold onto large amounts of knowledge at one time and sift through it more efficiently. It was easier to see the connections between things, to grasp concepts that would have been slippery and difficult to comprehend before. Edward grudgingly admitted that it was another positive aspect of being a vampire.

His research focused on biology and genetics, trying to understand Emmett's explanation of how vampires came to be. What he couldn't understand was _how_ a human was changed into a vampire. It made no sense, and that bothered him. Edward was a numbers man; he liked neat, orderly data. Evolution seemed too fluid, too prone to random chance. Sure, there were trends and forecasts he'd had to track as an investment banker; he needed to be able to grasp larger picture to predict what might happen. He understood natural selection for the survival of a species, but genetics seemed to be so much more random, and it frustrated him.

While Edward researched, Bella did nothing. She curled up in a soft chair in the living room and stared forward. Her face was a blank mask, her eyes vague and unfocused. Although he didn't want to, he was starting to worry about her. For two days, she did nothing but sit in the chair, not even going to her bedroom to pretend to sleep. She just … sat.

By the next evening, Edward couldn't stand it anymore and finally snapped. "I need to feed," he barked at her.

Bella's blank eyes swung to face him, and she blinked, focusing on him. "Okay."

She rose to her feet, her movements so graceful and fluid that he found his eyes lingering on her body. He was relieved to see her responding to him, moving, speaking. He'd been half afraid that she was completely catatonic.

She was quiet while they dressed in coats and scarves and left her building to head into the park. This time they went further, walking deeper into the wooded area. Bella seemed almost normal, other than her silence, and for the first time he felt compelled to make conversation. "Are … are you okay?" he asked with a frown.

"I'm fine, Edward," Bella said, sounding tired. Edward knew that vampires didn't get physically tired, so her exhaustion had to be mental. He felt a twinge of regret, Emmett's warnings ringing in his head. "Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.

"Don't. Just … don't." She looked away from him, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat and burrowing deeper into her scarf. She couldn't be cold; it had to be psychological, as well.

Edward didn't respond, although he had no idea what she meant. _Don't what?_ He wondered. _Don't speak? Don't ask any questions?_

A short while later they came upon a homeless man, shuffling down the path on unsteady feet. The sole of his right shoe was coming loose, and it made an odd clapping sound with every step. As the two vampires approached the man on the sidewalk, he stopped. He looked at Bella with wide eyes, reaching out to touch her hair with one fingertip. His hands were filthy, crisscrossed with scars, but so gentle as he ghosted his fingers along the back of one of her glossy, dark curls.

"You're an angel," he said, exhaling the words with a reverential expression.

Bella smiled sadly and shook her head, her voice gentle when she spoke. "No, I'm not an angel."

She did look a bit like an angel, Edward thought to himself. Even in the light of a flickering streetlamp, she was other-worldly. Her coat was a creamy white, and the scarf she wore was gauzy and light, wrapping around her neck and draping down her back. Her skin was even paler than the fabric and her hair and eyes were so dark that Edward was struck again by how beautiful she was.

"Yes, you are," the man insisted. His old, wrinkled face creased in a frown for a moment, and then he gave her a smile. It was gummy, with more teeth missing than not. It was the happiest, most content smile Edward had seen in a long, long time. "You're an angel, come to take me to my maker."

Edward rolled his eyes, expecting Bella to do the same, but instead, she looked stricken. "No," she uttered hoarsely. "No, I can't do that."

The man gave her a puzzled frown, and then his expression seemed to melt into sadness. "You have to. I need you to make it stop."

Bella swallowed hard and shook her head.

"Make what stop?" Edward asked. For the first time, the man's clouded eyes swung to him. He squinted at Edward for a long moment.

"You're both angels," he commented, as if confirming something to himself. "But she's prettier."

He began to laugh loudly, verging on the edge of hysteria, but Bella didn't reply she only stared at him. Edward wondered if the man was drunk, crazy, or both.

"Make what stop?" Edward asked again, and the man's gaze returned to him as he abruptly stopped laughing.

He gave Edward a forlorn look. "The pain. I want you to make the pain stop. I'm an old man, and I'm tired. This weather hurts my bones, and I don't have a soft place to rest my head. Just make it all stop. Take me to my maker," he begged, tugging at Edward's lapel. "Please, I don't wanna go on."

"I can't," Bella said harshly. "Not … not anymore. I won't do it."

"Mister?" the man looked at Edward. "Will you do it?"

Edward shook his head, not fully understanding what the man was even asking. "What? No … I ... I can't either."

He wasn't about to agree to do something he didn't understand, and if Bella wasn't willing, he wasn't about to go against her. Whatever else he felt about Bella, he trusted that he could follow her guide when it came to interacting with humans.

"I'm sorry," Bella sobbed. "You'll have to find someone else."

She fled, moving too fast to pass as human, and Edward followed. The old man cried out behind them, his voice verging on the edge of hysterical. "Don't go, angels, don't go! I need you to make it stop!"

They were deep in the woods by the time Bella finally stopped, but the man's voice continued to echo in Edward's ears. "What the hell was that?" Edward asked.

She was leaning against a tree trunk, her palms resting against the bark. Her forehead was pressed to the backs of her hands, and her shoulders were shaking. Edward felt a strange urge to go over to her—to comfort her—but he didn't know why or how or if he should. He stepped closer, and then stopped when he was just a few inches from her. "Bella?" he asked.

"He knew what we are, or at least that we're different. He wanted me to kill him, Edward. He's old, his body is giving out on him, and his mind is gone. He wanted an end to the misery."

"Then why didn't you?" Edward asked. It didn't seem like a bad thing to kill someone who _wanted_ to die. "Is his blood bad, dangerous to us somehow?"

"No, nothing in human blood can harm us. I just … I can't be the angel of death … not anymore."

* * *

**Notes:** I'm dying to know what you thought of Emmett's explanation of how vampires came to be. And what about the odd encounter with the homeless man? Are you eager to find out what Bella meant by her cryptic statement about being the angel of death?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes: **As always, thanks to my betas, ContentedTwiCow, Sunflower Fanfiction, Jules, and AshesAshes. I couldn't do this without you!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

"I can't be the angel of death … not anymore."

Bella's words echoed in Edward's head, mingling with the man's strange outburst. Her explanation about what the man wanted finally made sense of the odd encounter, but he didn't know what she meant about being the angel of death. Did that mean she'd been an angel of death before? There were a thousand questions running through his mind, but he wasn't sure he was ready for the answers. Knowing Bella's past would mean knowing _her_. He wasn't sure he could hate her quite so much if he knew her, and he wasn't willing to let that go.

They walked in silence for a short way, both lost in their own thoughts. Bella seemed to pull herself together when she spotted a young man approaching them. He was neat and cleanly dressed and walked down the sidewalk with a confident stride. She straightened up, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she sauntered toward him. There was hardly time for the man to register her approach, and her sudden appearance made him jump in surprise.

"Where'd you come from, doll?" the guy asked with a cocky grin as she got closer to him. "Looking for some fun tonight?"

Bella smiled darkly at him, her voice low and seductive. "Oh, you have no idea."

The man blinked at her in stupefied astonishment, and when his gaze went foggy, she leaned in and bit. Bella drank from him quickly and efficiently then thrust the man's limp body toward Edward.

"Drink."

He did, although he found he didn't get the rush from it he normally did. Bella's odd mood had rubbed off on him, and he was uncomfortable and off-kilter. Still, the blood was refreshing, making the hunger in him recede.

Bella sealed the wound, wiped the man's memory, and deposited him on the ground by the path, propped against a tree. The moment their victim stirred and struggled to his feet, Bella was gone, moving down the sidewalk so fast it took Edward a moment to catch up.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Edward asked.

She whirled around to face him and growled. "Stop it. I don't know why you're pretending you care right now. I get it, Edward. You don't want me; you have no desire to be my mate. I … fucked up somehow. I shouldn't have changed you. Maybe it's because you weren't willing, or maybe there's just something wrong with _me_. Whatever it is, we aren't compatible, and you can stop throwing it in my face that you don't want me. I'm done hearing it. I'll do what you want, I'll teach you how to be a vampire and then you can leave, okay? Emmett will help you get started once you're ready to go off on your own."

He felt a stab of guilt when her voice broke, and her lower lip quivered. Edward noticed a few drops of blood clinging to it and, instinctively, he swiped his thumb across her lip. Her breath caught, and he smeared the blood back and forth slowly as their eyes met. Her lips opened, her tongue peeking out to gently touch the pad of his thumb. Their eyes locked; the air growing heated and charged between them. When his thumb was clean her tongue retreated, and he withdrew his hand. Her lower lip was still stained with the man's blood. Edward leaned in and saw her eyes widen. He gently touched his tongue to her lip, tracing it across the soft, full flesh, licking the blood off.

He wasn't thinking about all the reasons he was angry with her, or the fact that he was only making the situation worse. The sight of blood on her lips compelled him to share it with her.

At first, he only intended to make a few gentle swipes and then pull away, but the taste was so good he couldn't stop. Combined with the taste of her mouth, it was better than drinking the blood from the human had been; it was sweeter, richer. Without thought, he opened his mouth, tasting the blood on her tongue and hungrily searching for more.

The search for blood became a kiss, and he still didn't stop. Long after the blood was gone their lips were still moving together. His tongue tasted hers, and he dimly realized that the sweetness he was sampling belonged solely to Bella. Even that thought didn't make him pull away though. Instead, he pressed her back until she was pinned between him and the tree, her body molding to his. She seemed soft and pliant in his arms, and although desire raced through him like always, there was something different about this.

Bella tore her mouth from his and spoke, her voice a soft rasp that made his hair stand on end. "I know you won't claim me as your mate, but give me something, please. I need to feel you touch me."

She closed her eyes, resting the back of her head against the tree. Edward could see her narrow white throat against the soft fabric of her scarf, and he dragged it down, his thumb deftly flicking the top two buttons of the coat open. He began at the top of the jacket, dragging his nose up from her collarbone and breathing her scent in deeply; it was heady and drugging. The feel of her skin on his as he skimmed up her neck to her ear made him light-headed.

She shivered, letting out a soft moan that became a purr when he tilted his head so he could let his slightly-open mouth linger on the skin there. He sucked lightly at first, and then harder when she responded. She was shaking in his arms when he pulled away, and even then, it was only a few inches. "Do you want me to drink from you, Bella?"

"Please," she whimpered. "Oh, please."

His teeth sliced across her throat easily and the heady liquid spilled into his mouth. Quicksilver, _aevum_, whatever you called it, he was sure that nothing in the world tasted better. He drank it down, letting it coat his mouth, cover his tongue, fill him.

Her tiny, needy whimpers only spurred him on. He felt her small hands clutch at his coat but otherwise she was still, allowing him to take control. Eventually, with a small, reluctant sigh, he stopped drinking. His tongue took a long, slow lick across the wound he'd made. He could feel her body shaking against him and pulled back far enough to see her face. Her eyes were still closed; thick, heavy lashes lay against her pale cheeks, and her lips were parted. He could see her barely reined-in desperation, her need for him. He could smell it. Before he could stop himself, his hands were up under her coat, opening her jeans, and then under the fabric.

The moan Bella let out as soon as his fingers touched her wet flesh was something he would never forget. It was a moan of relief. His body's hunger for her mingled with the guilty feeling that although he was giving her what she'd asked for, he was only making the situation worse. But as his fingers delved inside of her, the guilt was pushed aside, and all he could think about was her.

It took so little for him to bring her pleasure; two fingers inside her working together with a thumb on her clit, and she was convulsing against his hand, her body shaking, her lip firmly clamped between her teeth.

Edward could feel the scream she wanted to let loose and covered her mouth with his own, trying to convince himself he was only doing it to keep her quiet—to keep from drawing attention. But he couldn't. He _wanted_ to feel her lips on his. He wanted to swallow her cries of pleasure, take them in himself.

He could have stopped then, but he didn't. He continued to stroke and tease her, drawing the pleasure out, a part of him fascinated by the way she reacted to his touch. Bella was still shuddering when he finally withdrew his hand. She pulled her lips from his, eyes downcast as she righted her clothing. Before he could even register what she was doing, she stepped forward, pressing her body against him and burying her face against his neck. His left arm automatically closed around her, tucking her close. She pushed the fabric of his scarf and collar of his coat aside, burrowing against him. Once she settled, he felt the whoosh of her breath against his neck, soft and warm and somehow so _right_.

She seemed to fit against him. _As if she'd been made for me_, he thought. Edward closed his eyes, fighting back the thought, fighting back the fact that every molecule in his body seemed to be screaming the same thing at him. _Mate_, his mind whispered. _Mine._

Edward gritted his teeth and glanced down at his right hand. It was glistening, and he had to fight himself to keep from licking his fingers clean. He could smell the rich, dizzying scent of her on him, and he wanted to taste it. The desire burned through him, but he forced himself to wipe her arousal off on his jeans. It didn't remove the scent, though. In fact, it only seemed to intensify in the air around them. It was as if he was covering himself in her scent, marking himself.

A low growl rumbled through his throat, but whether it was anger or desire he couldn't quite say. He felt Bella's lips brush his skin.

Once.

Twice.

Her lips parted, and the brushing kisses became soft, open-mouthed ones. He closed his eyes, sinking in to the feeling despite his better judgment telling him it was a dangerous move.

Her lips felt warm as her soft, wet tongue teased the skin there, rasping over stubble as she lapped right over the place where his artery pulsed. One small change in angle and she could slice through the skin, let the quicksilver spill over her tongue. She could take him inside her. His already-hard cock throbbed at the thought, and he moved their bodies backwards, one arm still around her, the other braced on the tree trunk. Pinned between the tree and his body, she was utterly helpless.

His hips shifted restlessly, the difference in their height making his aching cock rub up against her stomach, rather than between her thighs where he wanted it. He tightened his arm around her shoulders and lifted. She wound her legss against his hips, helping his cock settle into the V of her thighs.

Bella's lips on his neck grew more desperate, and when her ankles locked behind him, it forced him even tighter against her. Despite the fabric of their clothes, she felt hot, and he instinctively began to move. Thrusting, rutting, their movements were frantic and desperate. Edward could hear the small growling sounds she made against his throat, and he felt bark crumble and splinter under his fingers. He threw his head back as the trembling in her thighs increased. He knew she was about to tip over the edge into orgasm, and he wanted to feel it. He wanted to be inside her when she did.

Edward moaned aloud, picturing the way she'd feel clenching around his cock, how right it would be if he came inside her. His dick throbbed at the image as he snarled in anticipation. He thrust at her again, making her cry out against his neck. His eyes screwed tightly shut as he pictured the way they'd both tilt their heads and bite each other simultaneously as they came. He shuddered at the thought, imagining the way it would feel to share the quicksilver between them as he spilled inside her.

His voice was so low and rough he hardly recognized it when he spoke. "I want …"

"What do you want, Edward?" Bella asked, her hips continuing to move against his, as her hand twisted in his hair, sending jolting shocks of pleasure through him.

"I don't know," he cried out in frustration. "I just _want_." It burned in every cell of his body, this strange, unnamable need. The urge crawled under his skin, singed him, and obliterated his every rational thought. It was more powerful than words and could only be assuaged by action. Hazily, as if he was watching from outside himself, he pulled his arm out from behind Bella's back and clasped both her hands in his, slamming them against the tree trunk over their heads.

Bella gasped and roughly lapped at his throat, scraping her teeth across his skin. The tiniest hint of pressure and she'd break the skin. She nuzzled against him and against his neck. "I know what you need, Edward, I can give it to you. Please let me give it to you."

"Yes," he panted, his mind a swirling mess of need and hunger.

It wasn't until he felt her teeth nick his throat that he realized what she meant. The stinging slice of pain along with the feeling of his life force beginning to flow out of him brought him back to reality. What he'd been asking for without realizing it.

Edward ripped his body away from hers, recognizing how much it hurt to do so. A sharp, stinging ache bloomed across every inch of his body. His mind cleared, but the needy, desperate urge didn't.

"You tricked me," he snarled.

She staggered and regained her footing, her expression twisting into one of wide-eyed bewilderment. "Tricked you?" she asked.

"Tricked me. Told me you knew I didn't want to be your mate and then tried to make it happen anyway. You were going to drink from me, force me to do the ritual. Force me to belong to you." He spat the words at her, enraged at the way she'd manipulated him and made him think he wanted it.

"No, no, Edward, I … I didn't mean to. I just got caught up in the moment, you have to believe me. I swear it." She stepped forward, her hands clutching at his jacket frantically, her eyes wild and frightened.

He shook her off with a low growl of warning. "Don't touch me. Don't ever touch me again."

"Edward, please …" she said through a gasp, her anguished expression making his chest ache. He hated that he felt anything for her at all. The twinge of remorse at her obvious pain, the desire to fuck her, and the white-hot anger at her manipulation battled within him.

"I am done with your scheming and your manipulation, Bella, done with it. I should have known better than to get close to you. I don't trust you." He pointed a finger at her and continued. "You are going to teach me how to pull memories from the humans we feed on, and the minute I know how, I am out of here."

**~Dreaming~**

In the weeks that followed, Edward remained cold and distant. He spent his time researching vampires and genetics. Bella bought a laptop for him, and although he resented not having his own money to use, he was too curious not to use the gift. He spread out at the otherwise unused dining room table, working tirelessly, with books and pads of paper scattered around him. Every time he thought he'd answered one of his questions, six more popped up.

The only time he interacted with Bella was when they hunted together. Otherwise, he buried himself in research while she floated around the apartment like a ghost, silent and listless. Her timidity unnerved him, and so did the long periods of silent stillness she seemed to fall into. The only spark of life in her seemed to be when they were on the hunt, and even then, it was muted.

She tried to teach him how to manipulate memories, but he struggled with it. He grew frustrated by the slow progress, convinced that she was keeping something from him.

"There's something you're not telling me," he growled. "I know it."

"There's nothing, Edward," she said pleadingly. "I swear."

The human who lay limp in his arms blinked at him dazedly. "So pretty," she murmured, reaching up to touch his face.

He huffed in irritation and batted her hand away, turning to look at Bella. "Tell me again."

"Can you feel the low humming in her mind, like an electric tingle?" Bella asked for the umpteenth time.

He closed his eyes and nodded, zeroing in on the strange feeling. It wasn't that he could see her memories exactly, but he could feel them. They buzzed almost, and the newer and more vivid the memories, the stronger the sensation became.

"Tug it toward you."

He focused on drawing the humming toward him, bringing it forward, but as always; it seemed to snap back the moment he thought he had it.

Their victim whimpered, able to feel what he was doing. Bella was capable of doing it so fast that the human was unaware of it, but the girl in his arms could feel the strange sensation of him poking around in her mind, and she was growing frightened. His other-worldly beauty and intoxicating allure weren't enough to calm her. He looked down and tried to smile reassuringly at the girl, but she struggled in his arms, her terror palpable.

"Don't kill me, please, just let me go," she begged. Edward winced, but tightened his grip a little, unwilling to let her leave until he was sure she wouldn't remember the incident.

"Shh," Bella soothed, stepping closer, her fingertips stroking the girl's hair. "It's okay. We won't hurt you anymore; just let us take this memory away, and we'll be done with you. You can go home and when you wake up, you won't remember any of this, I promise."

Whether it was her soothing words or something else, the girl seemed reassured as she lay calmly in Edward's arms again.

"Try again, Edward. But this time, picture the memory leaving through her ear or her mouth or something like that if it's easier."

He nodded, a little unsure of why that would make a difference, but he was willing to try anything if he could just quit torturing the poor girl. He considered her for a moment, wondering which he should choose. Pulling it through her ear seemed odd and tugging her memory through her nose reminded Edward a bit too much of the way ancient Egyptians removed the brains from mummies, so he settled on her mouth.

He tugged again, and the memory left her as he pictured it slipping out from between her slightly-parted lips, as if she was speaking the words. The energy dissipating into the night air and was gone.

The girl went limp, her gaze soft and blank. Edward looked up at Bella and a genuine smile lifted her lips. "You did it, Edward."

He felt a surge of pride and found himself smiling back at her. He gently deposited the girl on a bench, arranging her limbs carefully, knowing she'd wake again in a moment, and other than being a little tired, she'd be just fine.

They watched the girl to make sure she made it home safe before walking back to Bella's apartment. The tension between them seemed to have eased, and Bella no longer appeared so ghost-like.

She didn't speak again until they were back inside her apartment as she headed into her bedroom. "You did great, Edward."

"Thanks." His gaze met hers and something passed between them, some thawing of the frosty tension that had been lingering for weeks. He couldn't help but see the worry in her eyes, the fear that he wasn't sure how to respond to. "I should probably practice more," he said suddenly. "Make sure tonight wasn't just a fluke."

Bella nodded; the tension and worry easing as her face relaxed. "That sounds like a good idea."

They lingered in the hallway outside her bedroom, neither of them turning to walk away for a long while. Eventually, Bella sighed and opened the door, disappearing inside. He was left staring after her, the murmured, "goodnight, Edward," lingering in the air.

He stood there a little longer, his eyes fixed on the closed door. With a sigh, he walked away, returning to his makeshift office in her dining room. Rather than the single-minded focus he'd had for research lately, he was distracted with thoughts of Bella.

Now that Edward knew how to remove memories, he could leave. But rather than the relief he expected to be feeling, he was apprehensive. He still resented what Bella had done, but if he left, he'd be entirely alone. It would've been no different from how he'd been living as a human these last few years, and yet it suddenly bothered him.

His internal struggle over Bella and what she'd done to him was complicated, but at least she was familiar. He'd grown accustomed to knowing she was there as he worked, even when they weren't speaking. Edward didn't like it, but he had to admit that a part of him wasn't willing to leave Bella just yet.

He got up and walked toward her bedroom, his fist poised to knock for the longest time. Eventually, he knocked forcefully on her door, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent apartment.

Bella opened the door with wide eyes, her long hair trailing down over her shoulders. She was dressed in pajamas again, this time a silky dove grey that made her skin look even more pale and translucent. "Yes?"

Edward's breath caught at the sight of the need in her eyes as she gazed up at him, and the tight ache that had been lingering in his chest, right behind his sternum, finally seemed to crack open.

His lips parted, and they were both surprised by the words that left his mouth. "Tell me about your past."

* * *

**Notes**: Well, it seems like Vampward's making some progress, huh? I know you're all dying to know the story of Bella's past, but with the holidays coming up I am going to have to take a short break. My birthday (the 18th) and Christmas both fall on a Wednesday, so I am going to take those two weeks off from posting. I need the time to enjoy the celebrations and get caught up on a few things.

I will be back with the next chapter on Wed. Jan 1! Hope you have a lovely rest of December and if you celebrate any of the winter holidays I hope they are wonderful!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes: **As always, thanks to my betas, ContentedTwiCow, Sunflower Fanfiction, Jules, and AshesAshes. I couldn't do this without you!

Thank you for your patience while I took two weeks off. I am glad I did because there was a horrible ice storm and I lost power for 5 days (over Christmas). It was exhausting and stressful and wasn't exactly what I had in mind for the holidays, but I did my best to enjoy it anyway and I am eager to start the new year! Hopefully you had a lovely holiday season and that your 2014 is the best ever!

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Bella's lips parted in surprise, but she stepped back, allowing him into her bedroom. He came in there frequently—her bathroom was the only one with a shower—but he still felt slightly uncomfortable. He had no idea why he'd chosen to tell her he wanted to hear about her past, but he knew he needed to.

Her past seemed to be the key to so many things, and he couldn't leave until he'd satisfied those lingering questions. He glanced at the bed and then took a seat on a chair across the room from it. Edward watched as she paced around the bedroom for a few moments. He couldn't stop watching her. Her movements were fluid but with a strength that still unnerved him. She was so beautiful. More beautiful than she'd ever been when he was human.

He was so immersed in watching her that he was startled when she finally spoke. She was facing away from him, standing at the window, finally still.

"In June of nineteen-fourteen I was seventeen-years-old. My father was a wealthy banker in New York; my mother had died when I was born. Father remarried shortly after, and my stepmother, Susan, wasn't cruel, but we were never close. She was his wife, not my mother. I had nannies that raised me. My father was often gone on business trips, and I was rich and bored." She looked over her shoulder to give him a half-hearted smile and turned back to the window.

"There was a young man named Garrett Morgan. He was the son of my father's boss. He wanted to court me, but his father wouldn't allow it. Mr. Morgan believed his son could do better. He wanted Garrett to marry Katherine Parsons. Her father was wealthier and more powerful than mine was. Garrett and I thought we were in love. It all seemed so tragic then; young lovers torn apart by family desires." He heard a mocking note in her voice, but he let her continue.

"Garrett came up with a plan. If he compromised my virtue, his father would be forced to allow us to marry. It didn't work that way. We were 'caught' by my father, although we'd hardly done more than kiss and touch. I was still _intact_." This time the mocking tone was clear. "Father did exactly as we expected; he went to Mr. Morgan and demanded that Garrett marry me.

"In turn, Mr. Morgan demanded that a doctor examine me. He would only agree to our marriage if Garrett had taken my virginity. It was humiliating. I cried as a doctor examined me, and then cried when he told Mr. Morgan that I was still a virgin. Mr. Morgan refused to allow Garrett to marry me, and threatened my father's position. He said he'd _ruin _him if my father breathed a word to anyone about what Garrett and I had done, and that if his harlot of a daughter wasn't sent away immediately, he would destroy my father's career.

"I sailed from New York the following morning. The idea was to get me away from Garrett and salvage my reputation, but there were whispers of a scandal anyway. My Aunt Ruth accompanied me as a chaperone. She was quite a bit older than my father was and very strict. There were eight society ladies on the trip, and I was by far the youngest. Ostensibly, I was traveling with my aunt to tour Europe. It was the sort of thing that was still done in our social circle. Society ladies were expected to converse about art and history, and what place was better to learn that than Europe? I'd dreamed of going to Europe for years. But not like that. I was miserable, and I spent the first three days of our trip, sobbing in my stateroom." Her voice had become cool and detached, as if she was telling someone else's story. He also noticed how formal her speech had become, as if she was falling back into an earlier time where proper grammar was insisted upon.

"A Marconi gram—a telegram essentially—was sent to me three days into the trip to inform me that a Miss Katherine Parsons was engaged to be married to a Mr. Garrett Morgan. You would have thought that would have made me cry even more, but it didn't. Instead, I grew angry. I wanted to get back at him for moving on. Of course, now I understand that he had no choice. Neither of us did. We were at the mercy of his father."

"What did you do?" Edward asked, enthralled by the story she was telling.

"I made it my goal to flirt with every male I could. If I was going to be branded as a harlot, I might as well act like one." She turned and gave him another grim smile. "My Aunt Ruth and her army of society ladies doubled as chaperones, though, so I barely had time to flirt with a single sailor before they descended on me."

"That sailor was a lucky man," Edward said, without a trace of sarcasm. He imagined a young and determined human version of Bella, attempting to seduce a whole ship full of sailors. He had no doubt she could have managed it. "I'm sure you were irresistible."

Her face softened, but she didn't respond to his comment, merely continued with her story. "When we arrived in Holland we toured for several weeks before we learned the news that Archduke Franz Ferdinand had been assassinated. Father sent a series of increasingly worried telegrams as tensions mounted throughout Europe and the battles began. We went from Holland into Germany, Germany to France. Italy was supposed to come after France, but I never made it there. I was in Paris when he found me."

"Who found you?" Edward asked, leaning forward, hanging onto every word.

"Death." Her voice was a low whisper, the memory of her fear lacing her words even though it had been nearly a century. "My maker."

Edward stood up, crossing the room to stand close to her. A strange desire to protect her thrummed through him. She continued, facing away from him, the tension in her voice clear. "First, you need to know about Paris during that time."

"Tell me about Paris then." His hand was resting on her forearm, and the front of his body pressed against the back of hers. She was tense, her whole body tight, but as they stood there quietly for a moment, she seemed to relax, sinking back against him.

"Paris was a vibrant city, like nothing I'd ever seen before. Wilder, freer. I felt at home. I soon began slipping out of the room and wandering the city when Aunt Ruth was sleeping; it was thrilling to be so rebellious. She slept like the dead, and there were only a few nights when I wasn't able to escape for at least a few hours. I went to the cafes. I spoke a little French—most educated girls of my class did at the time—and it was enough. I met a young man there, Laurent. He was a poet, and just weeks after we met, I went to his apartment, and I let him seduce me. I was still angry at Garrett. Garrett's touch had been hesitant, but it had awakened something in me, some need I couldn't quite identify. Laurent made me feel beautiful and desired, and on a shabby, narrow bed in an attic apartment in Paris, I gave myself to him."

Edward heard a low growl begin, and he was shocked to realize that _he_ was the one growling. He was _jealous_. Jealous of this Frenchman, who was long dead and forgotten by everyone but Bella. He bit back the rage and quieted himself.

Either Bella didn't notice his anger, or she chose to ignore it. "He was a skilled lover, and he taught me much. I went there, night after night, until our last night in Paris. He begged me to stay, to run away from my family and stay in Paris with him. I was infatuated with him, but I didn't love him, and what kind of life could I have with a penniless poet? I was spoiled. A rich, entitled girl who wasn't ready for that kind of life. We were arguing when Death arrived."

He felt her tremble against him, and he held her closer, nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head, his need to comfort her eclipsing his anger. The trembling didn't stop, but the tension in her body eased as he held her close. When she was calm again, she continued. "We were in bed, naked under the sheets. My thighs were still wet when the figure appeared in the window. I screamed, but no one heard. There was a party in the apartment below. A wild, Bohemian party that drowned out any noise we made."

Once again, her voice grew cool and detached, like she was reciting some dark and twisted fairy tale—a story that had nothing to do with her at all. "He crouched in the window for a moment, and I scrambled to pull the covers over me and dress. He was blond. Handsome. But his face was cold, almost cruel looking. I remember the gleam of his eyes in the dark, candle-lit room. He killed Laurent first. It was over quickly, but I remember every second of it. I was terrified, and yet the sight of the blood was so beautiful as it spilled onto the white sheets. I remember thinking that even then.

"He drank from me next, his hard, cold body against mine. I was still naked as he pulled me out of bed and held me against him. I was ashamed because I desired him. I had just given myself to Laurent and yet this _monster_ excited me. He didn't caress me, or put himself inside of me, and yet, when the blood drained from me, I came. The pain and the pleasure were so intertwined, so heady and new. And when I drank from him it was the sweetest ecstasy."

He smelled the rush of arousal that drifted through the air, and despite the horrifying tale she was telling, he found himself hardening as he pictured her slight, nude body against that of a fully clothed, blond vampire. The idea of what the vampire had done made him inexplicably angry, but he couldn't deny the rush of desire that mingled with the anger.

"When I awoke, we were in an old, crumbling chateau on the outskirts of Paris. He taught me what it was to be a vampire."

"Were you lovers?" Edward asked. His voice was low and rough. He didn't like the hot surge of jealousy that snaked through him once again.

"Yes."

"Did you want to be, or did he force you?"

"He didn't force me. At the time, I thought I wanted it. I _did_ want it. I just didn't understand the world around me. My maker, he was a cruel man. He drank from humans for pleasure, killing them without compunction. He taught me to do the same. For months, we scoured the countryside for victims; drinking, fucking, and killing. It was an orgy of gluttony. It was horrific, but it was all I knew."

"I could rip him limb from limb." Edward growled lowly; anger made his entire body vibrate against hers.

Bella shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against the back of her head. They were both silent for a long time as she stood encircled in his arms. "Why did you leave him?" he asked finally.

"I found out he had a companion already. They had been together for a very long time. Maybe hundreds of years, and she was as sadistic and cruel as he was. They'd quarreled, and she'd gone off on her own for several months. When she returned she was livid to find me there, and I was angry that he didn't belong to me. I fled the chateau and found myself in the midst of war. France was in the grip of World War I and the Germans were marching on Paris. I stole a French soldier's uniform and followed on the outskirts. War is a Godsend to a vampire. We can drink and kill without fear of being found. What were a few bodies to them, when they could hardly bury the ones who had been shot or blown up? It was a gory, grisly time, and it was only by chance that I stumbled upon the doctor."

"The doctor?" he asked, curious to know what she would say next.

"I … I think I'm done for tonight." Abruptly, she stepped away from him, and his hand fell to his side. "I'll tell you another time. I just need a break right now."

"… Okay," he agreed, startled by her sudden shift in mood. She seemed fragile right then, brittle, as if she'd shatter if he pushed her at all. He watched as she disappeared into the closet, reappearing moments later, fully dressed. Her face was blank, her eyes dark and shadowed.

Her voice was equally bland and emotionless when she spoke. "I'm going out for a while. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Where are you going? Would you like me to go with you?" He was as surprised as she was by the questions leaving his mouth. He was even more startled when she shook her head no.

"Please, don't. Don't pretend as if you care. It's even worse than you telling me you don't want me."

"Bella…I…" his voice trailed off. He was at a complete loss for words, unsure of what to say to her. The events that had transpired over the last few weeks—and especially that night—had shaken him. He felt as though something in him was shifting, softening, but he didn't know what it meant.

"I'll be back later." Her voice was cool and dismissive, and he watched her as she walked out the door, leaving only her lingering scent behind.

**~Dreaming~**

Edward sat in her bedroom for a long time, waiting for her to return. His mind whirled with thoughts, but they were too slippery to grasp, too fleeting and amorphous. He struggled to pin them down, arrange them in some sort of logical fashion, but he couldn't manage that.

If it were possible for him to be sick, he would have been, imagining over and over a young, vulnerable woman in the grip of some sadistic monster. She had been foolish for going out on her own, for fucking a penniless French poet. But, she hadn't deserved to watch Laurent be killed or to be changed into a vampire. She hadn't deserved to be used by her maker, turned into something dark.

He now understood why Bella had been so worried about the young woman they'd drank blood from in the park. Why Bella had followed her to make sure she made it back home safely. The story of her past helped him understand why she sometimes seemed so young …it was because she _was_ young. She'd been changed at seventeen.

Edward paused suddenly, the realization that there was a twelve-year age difference between them made him vaguely queasy. No matter how seductive and womanly she seemed, in some ways, she was barely an adult.

He tried to remind himself of the hundred years she had lived through since. That she was far more experienced and worldly than he was, but it still made him feel ill.

He was bent over; elbows planted on his knees, and his hair gripped in his fists when she finally returned. Her soft footfalls announced her presence, and they stopped just a few feet from him. "Edward?" she said worriedly.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head, staring at her blankly. His eyes traced over her, trying to take in every aspect of her face, her stance, her body. Edward drank in the sight, terrified that he had taken advantage of _her._

She still looked a bit fragile, but it was her eyes that convinced him that this was no seventeen-year-old girl in front of him. This was a woman with nearly a century of history—a dark, bloody one at that. He let out a relieved sigh, his lips parting as if to say something, but nothing came out.

She stepped closer, a puzzled, questioning frown on her face. She lifted her hand, hesitantly reaching out to touch his cheek. She moved like someone approaching an unfamiliar dog, warily, as if she was afraid he might snap at her. But he held still, allowing her small, soft hand to cradle his jaw.

He closed his eyes; the fight leached out of him, the urge to pull away from her gone. Her thumb brushed against his cheekbone, right under his eye. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward, his forehead resting against her stomach, his hands coming up to wrap around the back of her thighs. She cradled him close, running her fingers through his hair.

For just a moment, he forgot what they were and how they had gotten to this point. They were just two individuals coming together to offer each other comfort. Not vampires, not antagonistic lovers, but people in need.

Edward let out a long shuddering sigh, wanting the feel of her fingers in his hair to be enough.

For a while, it was.

* * *

**Notes**: Soo, what do you think of Bella's history? There's more to discover but you've seen the first glimpse of her past and it's quite interesting, isn't it? It even cracked a bit of Edward's hard shell. I am so eager to hear what you think about it.

In other news, I am working very hard on my original fiction career. I have a short story that will be published as part of an anthology in Feb. (more info to follow). I have also self-published several gay romance stories under the penname of Brigham Vaughn. If you're interested in reading some of my original fiction, the stories are available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.

I also have Facebook, Twitter ( AuthorBVaughn), WordPress blog, and Goodreads accounts under that name. So, please join me on there if you'd like to follow my OF gay romance writing career.

One of my pre-readers for "Dreaming in Blood" had to step away from the fanfic world due to RL, and in conjunction with the ice storm and my OF writing I am quite behind on chapters. I will be posting the story every other week from now on until I can get things back in order. Thanks so much for your understanding.


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